Eating Away At The Soul
by CharlieCaller
Summary: A letter from home could send BJ over the edge - how can the others cope with their own problems and still get BJ back? [Story complete]
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The following characters do not belong to me, they belong to M*A*S*H and its related companies, I am not making any money from using them in my story, so please don't sue me.  
  
Note: I will be serving up some soon, I thought I'd just give you a prologue to chew on and keep you hungry for more. (It's a walking pun- factory!) Enjoy!  
  
~~~~  
  
Title: Eating Away At The Soul  
  
~~~~  
  
Prologue:  
  
~~  
  
"My darling,  
  
"Let me begin by saying something I will no doubt say many more times as I write this letter. I'm so very sorry. I can't believe it happened, but it happened, how I wish it hadn't and how I wish I could turn back the clock and I'm so sorry. I can't lie to you about what happened, it wouldn't be right to keep it from you, at the end of the day I think its right to be honest with you, even after what I did. Let me explain.  
  
"It all started when I went to Mary Travis' 40th birthday party, you know, they live across the street from us? Well, at first I was in two minds about going, but in the end I hired a sitter, put my best dress on and went, I thought it would be polite since I had been invited. Anyway, when I got there I half wished I hadn't gone, I mean most of the guests were people who work with Mary, and I really didn't know anyone, so I just stood by the punchbowl. I was just standing there when I turned around and knocked right into a man. Well, we introduced ourselves, his name is James Owen, and we got talking. James is a friend of Mary's, from High School, and like me he didn't know anyone else at the party, so we had that much in common. He's a teacher at a Junior High School just outside of town, and he likes golf. He's such a nice guy, really charming, polite, he complimented my new dress, I'm so sorry.  
  
"The time flew by, and it was midnight by the time the party broke up. I wasn't tired, and I didn't want to offend him or anything, so when James asked me to his apartment for a drink I accepted. It was so innocent; we just sat and talked for ages. I know its inexcusable, and I'm sorry, but the alcohol must have had an effect on me, you know I'm not much of a drinker but it was a party, and with James one thing led to another. When I woke up, I was in bed with James, in his arms.  
  
"Darling, I'm sorry, I can't believe what I did, I can't forgive myself right now, let alone let you forgive me. There you are, in a war of all places, the conditions there you've told me are awful, and I go and do this.  
  
"Right now, I've gone to stay with a friend. You probably need your space, and I need time to think. You're probably wondering what I've got to think about, I mean, if I know you, you'll probably forgive me and pretend to play happy families again, but with it playing on your mind. For me, it's not as easy as that. I need my space too, with no calls or letters. I haven't spoken to James yet, either, like I said I need some space. I'm sorry, BJ.  
  
"Erin loves you, I'll contact you soon, Love Peg."  
  
~~~~ 


	2. Chapter One: The Welcome Mat

Chapter One: The Welcome Mat  
  
~~  
  
"Ah, the welcoming committee, I see," Charles said, getting out of his jeep and almost stepping onto a patient lying on the ground. His instincts as a doctor took over from the desire to have a shower and sleep, and he immediately began to assess the man's injuries. "Corpsman, one of you help me get this man into Pre-Op, the other please, carefully, take my bags to my tent," he commanded, his personal needs not altogether forgotten.  
  
"Welcome back and scrub up, we've got a long one here," Colonel Potter barked as Charles walked into the scrub room. Without anything further to say the Commanding Officer of the 4077th M*A*S*H walked through into the OR, irritated at an afternoon session of painting being interrupted by incoming wounded, a frustration that would evaporate from his mind as soon as he entered the OR.  
  
"Hi, Charles, how was Tokyo?" Hawkeye asked as he washed and rinsed his hands thoroughly, before the rubber surgical gloves were snapped on. Hawkeye was slightly envious, he would have loved the best part of a week in Tokyo with no one to stitch back together on a daily basis, but still he was compromised by going on a date with the newest nurse in the camp.  
  
"Full of drunks officers, flirtatious nurses, corrupted people of the Eastern Orient, noisy, untidy, exactly the way you left it on your last visit, Pierce, thank you," Charles said, moving to the sink that Hawkeye had just vacated, "How many casualties?"  
  
"Too many," Hawkeye said with some ire, again being reminded of how much he despised war and the suffering that went on in it, just to declare someone the winner and someone the loser - that could easily have been settled over a game of tiddlywinks, "Colonel Potter says we've got about fifteen hours work in there."  
  
"Fifteen - that's absurd! I've just have a ride on some kind of aging aircraft, followed by a ride on the hay cart of some local farmer that wouldn't stop talking to me throughout, in Korean, no less," he complained, his backside still feeling the ache of that journey.  
  
"I should hope you gave him your two cents for that offence," Hawkeye said, his gown now tied to him, "I mean, a Korean speaking Korean in Korea, the shame of it!"  
  
"The point is, Pierce," Charles sneered through gritted teeth, wishing he was back on the hay cart instead of quarrelling with Hawkeye not five minutes after his return to camp, "I haven't had any sleep for God-Knows how long, how am I expected to be able to operate efficiently in this state?"  
  
"Do what you always do, operate with your eyes closed and one hand tied behind your back," Hawkeye said, his eyes grinning at his remark as he disappearing through the doors to the OR.  
  
~~  
  
"All right, next one in," Potter called as the patient with shrapnel in his shoulder was lifted from the table. It had been a long, draining ten hours, and several times tempers had risen to boiling point before he, the commander of the outfit, had to extinguish them. As the next patient was brought into the OR, Colonel Potter turned to study the x-ray.  
  
"What have you got, Colonel?" Hawkeye asked as he delved deep into a belly wound, carefully picking out the seemingly small and insignificant, yet hugely harmful shell fragments.  
  
"Guy took one to the leg," the CO of the outfit reported, still examining the x-ray, "should be fairly straight-forward. How's everybody else?"  
  
"Fine," BJ said shortly, concentrating hard on carefully removing a fragment from one patient's belly.  
  
"Just closing," Charles reported efficiently, neatly stitching the wounds back together.  
  
"I'm glad you asked that, Colonel," Hawkeye began, ignoring Potter's slight groan. "OR is fine, except for the wounded that keep coming through here and interrupting my boredom. My cot is about as thick as a cracker, and slightly less comfortable to lie on. And don't get me started about the food here."  
  
"How's your patient?" Colonel Potter growled, really not in the mood for Hawkeye's ranting that evening.  
  
"His shoulder is going to be just fine," Hawkeye said, picking out the last piece of shrapnel from it.  
  
For the next few minutes the OR was in silence, save the metal clattering of instruments, and fragments hitting the bowls once they were removed. The silence was interrupted by a gurgle coming from the far side of the room.  
  
"Either you missed lunch, Hunnicutt, or your belly's doing the talking for you today," Colonel Potter noted, at the same time expressing a concern that BJ had been too quiet for his liking, not just that day but for about a week now. "Father, could get rustle up a sandwich for him, please?"  
  
"Certainly," Father Mulcahy said brightly, always happy to help, but he was stopped in his tracks.  
  
"No need, Father, I'm fine," BJ said, not looking up from the wound he was working on. He didn't wish to cause any unnecessary fuss, or possible contamination, by eating inside the OR.  
  
"Food in the OR? As an anaesthetic, maybe, but probably not a good idea for the doctors, don't you think?" Hawkeye commented with humour, whilst expertly stitching up the patient's shoulder.  
  
"All right then, Hunnicutt, after you're done with your patient you can go over to the Mess Tent yourself and get some food," Potter said, not really in the mood to argue with anyone at that moment, he was too tired, tired of the war.  
  
"It's no problem, Colonel, I'm fine," BJ repeated, not wanting the food. He just wanted to finish operating and get back to the Swamp where he could sleep.  
  
Colonel Potter was not satisfied, but he let it go, only saying, "it's your call."  
  
Charles inadvertently broke the tension by asking, "Colonel, was there any mail delivered whilst I was away?"  
  
"One mail call," Potter said, finding the first of three pieces of shrapnel in the boy's leg. He threw it deftly into the provided pan before saying, "I suppose you want to know if you got any."  
  
"Well, if it's not too much trouble," Charles said with some sarcasm, hoping that it had been implied in his first question.  
  
"Klinger!" Potter bellowed.  
  
Corporal Max Klinger, dressed in his now customary military uniform, came charging into the room, almost running straight into a table of carefully cleaned and placed surgical instruments.  
  
"Klinger! Watch where you're going," Major Margaret Houlihan scorned, her hands already reacting and placed out to intercept the tray should it have fallen.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Klinger said quickly but with sincerity, before turning to Colonel Potter and asking, "You called, sir?"  
  
"Did Major Winchester receive any mail while he was in Tokyo?" Potter asked, ignoring the chaos Klinger almost just caused and getting straight to the point. His nerves were wearing thin, what with Hawkeye's constant joking, BJ's inexplicably sullen mood and Charles' constant demands, and of course the regular flow of wounded pouring in.  
  
"Yes sir, one letter, I kept it in my office for safekeeping," Klinger explained, addressing both the Colonel and Charles.  
  
"Klinger, I want that letter as soon as I have stepped out of surgery, the second I snap off these blood-covered gloves, do I make myself clear?" Charles said, speaking clearly, calmly and with a certain amount of menace in his voice.  
  
"Crystal, Major," Klinger said, giving a sharp yet mocking salute before turning on his heel and leaving the operating room.  
  
"Ah, the sweet aroma of mail from home," Charles began, about to launch into a poetic speech of some form or other.  
  
BJ could have retched at that moment, had he possessed any less self- control. The mention of mail only brought back the memories of what was written in that letter, the one that haunted his dreams and turned them to nightmares. He prayed for Charles to shut up, to stop talking about mail, but he did not pray hard enough.  
  
Charles continued, "A white envelope, pure and innocent away from everything in this war that is both green and red. The letter folded so neatly at the creases, it rustles almost cleanly when you open it."  
  
"Oh, it's going to be a long evening," Colonel Potter muttered under his breath, loud enough for Charles to hear and take heed, and once again all was quiet in the OR. 


	3. Chapter Two: Here's To Hell

Chapter Two: Here's To Hell  
  
~~  
  
BJ was the first to finish surgery, and he took advantage of this. Usually, he would hang around, to see if anyone needed any assistance, but not today. Today, he was heading straight for the Swamp, to pour himself a swift drink.  
  
He hadn't told anyone about the letter. Usually, Hawkeye would be the first to know about any news from home, good or bad, but BJ had let the letter drop to the ground and float under his cot where it still lay, untouched, like BJ couldn't bring himself to read it again. He had kept his problems to himself, and had adapted to trying to carry on with life as normal, as if nothing had happened.  
  
Nothing had been the same since he had got that letter. Since that unspeakable day, BJ had felt that everything had become a shade darker in colour, not to say that the war had been a bundle of joy before, but getting that letter had amplified everything to become ten times worse. He felt that he had nothing to live for now, that even when the war was over there would be nothing at home for him.  
  
BJ had a gut feeling that Peg would have a hard time choosing between him and this James Owen. The first factor was that Peg and James were both at home, and he, BJ was in Korea, thousands of miles away. Secondly, Peg had always said that she had admired and liked older men, and this man was a good ten years older than she and BJ were, and thirdly, he had a good career as an English teacher. BJ, of course, had a worthy career, but he was not very far ahead in it, having only recently finished his residency, and it sounded like James Owen was a well-respected member of staff in that school.  
  
It was a fairly uncharacteristic decision on BJ's part for him to just give up without a fight, but then it was a fairly unusual situation for him to be placed in. At first, even as he read the letter, all BJ felt was disbelief. He imagined it to be some kind of a joke set up by someone, but then as he read on the despair of the reality of the situation sunk in, and he knew that no one could pull as cruel a joke as this.  
  
He didn't try to contact his wife, he had that much respect for her wishes, no matter how much he yearned to speak to her on the phone. At the same time, though, he was glad that he did not have to, to hear her speak to him after reading that letter, to hear her sweet voice tell him that she wanted James instead would break his heart. At least now he had this feeling of "maybe, maybe not," and some hope to hang on to, but with each passing day that string of hope began to weaken.  
  
"Here's to the end of another day in Hell," BJ said to no one in particular, glancing outside at the starry Korean night sky. He knocked the drink back before pouring another one and lying back on his cot, playing idly with the rim of the glass.  
  
BJ had spent the past week spiralling into a deep, dark hole of depression. He was drunk in the evening of the day he had received the letter, drunk past caring. He had woken up in Colonel Potter's office early the next morning, not altogether sure how he had ended up there. He had drinks more than usual since that day, in an attempt to drown his sorrows and create a void for the pain for a few hours, until he woke up in the morning with a different kind of pain, this one in his head.  
  
He had also become quieter than usual, more reserved to talk and make jokes. This had been a slow, gradual process and only a few select people had noticed this change, and those people had assumed it was just an off- week and that BJ's spirits would pick up soon enough. After all, everyone had their off-week once in a while, it was all part of being at war.  
  
BJ was nearing the bottom of his third or fourth glass when Hawkeye walked into the Swamp, still wearing his blood-covered scrubs, and made a beeline for the Still. "You got a head start," Hawkeye muttered, pouring himself a drink.  
  
"You'll soon catch up," BJ said, his tone a drowsy and almost-drunk murmur.  
  
"How many have you had?" Hawkeye asked casually, not meaning any harm in the question.  
  
"Who's counting?" BJ retorted huffily.  
  
"Apparently not you," Hawkeye said, slightly affronted at being talked back to, before knocking back his drink and pouring himself a second.  
  
The alcohol would be getting to BJ faster that day, as he had eaten nothing since dinner the previous evening. BJ didn't mind though, in fact this pleased him, as the quicker he could escape the reality of the war, the world, his wife, the better.  
  
The toxin began to seep through into him, and it soon took effect. As he went up to make himself what he thought was his fifth, not that he was really counting, he asked Hawkeye, "Where's Chuckles?"  
  
"He went to take a shower," Hawkeye told him. "He'll be back in here soon, to try and catch up on all the sleep he missed out on whilst he was pretending to rest in Tokyo."  
  
"Ooh-oh, what was Chuckles up to when he was supposed to be R&R-ing in Tokyo? Was he trying to R&R with some other lady of the female persuasion?"  
  
"Who, Charles? I'll bet he was fighting them off," Hawkeye joked.  
  
Hawkeye smiled as the conversation lapsed into silence, a smile that turned into a frown as he worked through thoughts. At first he smiled, because he and BJ were bantering again, like they usually did. The smile turned to a frown when Hawkeye realised that the only reason this had happened was because BJ was drunk, and he himself was heading that way. Hawkeye hoped that BJ would soon find his way out of his depression and lay off the drinking, before his liver started complaining.  
  
"S-so, who's on Post-Op duty?" BJ asked, slurring slightly as he spoke.  
  
"Colonel Potter," Hawkeye said, glancing over at BJ. His friend could not have been out of surgery for more than an hour, yet he seemed to have quickly reached the latter stages of being drunk. He saw BJ move to the Still, and stopped him. "Come on, you've had enough."  
  
BJ was taken aback by this, and commented, "I never thought I'd ever hear you say something like that, s-specially coming from you."  
  
"Well, I'm usually at the same level as you, so whatever I see tends to be more blurred than this," Hawkeye explained, still standing defiantly in front of the Still. "Come on, you really don't need anymore."  
  
BJ was about to protest when he stopped himself. He still had enough sober sense to know that the last thing he needed right then was an argument, and so he shrugged and said, "Whatever you say." He flopped down on his cot, albeit a little unsteadily, and began to drift to sleep.  
  
Hawkeye watched, and could only shake his head, thinking to himself that war didn't only affect those fighting in it, but it hurt everyone. "To the end of the war," he silently toasted, before drinking his third and final glass for the evening.  
  
~~~~ 


	4. Chapter Three: First Order Of The Day

Chapter Three: The First Order Of The Day  
  
~~  
  
Hawkeye walked into the Mess Tent the next morning with a thick carpet-like sensation in his mouth, and he had a feeling that the mud-pie coffee that they served would do little to help it. He took it anyway, feeling that he would need something to wash down the powdered eggs and sausages that had been unceremoniously slopped onto his tray.  
  
He sat down at a table with Colonel Potter, Margaret and Father Mulcahy, who were making morning chitchat between themselves.  
  
"Morning, Hawkeye, did you sleep well?" Father Mulcahy enquired genially before shoving a fork full of the breakfast down his throat and forcing himself to swallow it, whilst trying hard to be thankful for whatever it was.  
  
"Eventually, thank you Father," Hawkeye said, sniffing his food before replacing it on the tray. "How's life in Post-Op, Colonel?"  
  
"Everything's settled down, Hunnicutt's in there now, I think," Colonel Potter said.  
  
Hawkeye nodded, remembering that he had woken up to find BJ's cot empty, and a lump under Charles' blanket snoring away. He had thrown a pillow at Charles to wake him up and had accused him of sounding like someone sawing a tree, whereupon he was haughtily informed, "Winchesters do not snore."  
  
"How's Private Martin?" Margaret enquired, remembering one of the first and most injured patients to be carried through the OR doors during that last session. Private Jack Martin had come in with a chest like "a box of nuts and bolts" as Hawkeye had put it whilst removing the pieces of metal. He had been no trouble in OR, but the staff at the hospital were to keep a watchful eye on him, as cases such as this had often taken a turn for the worse following surgery.  
  
"He's stable, he hasn't regained consciousness yet," Colonel Potter reported, chewing on a particularly tough piece of powdered eggs. "Oh, Father, before I forget, what time do you leave today?"  
  
"Two-o'clock today," Father Mulcahy told him. For the benefit of the other two, so that they could be part of the conversation, he added, "I'm going to stay at the orphanage for a few days, to help plant their garden."  
  
"That's nice," Hawkeye said sincerely, so glad to see that at least someone was getting something good out of something so bad. If he wasn't so busy trying to live through the war and stay sane, he might have tried it too.  
  
"Every little helps," Father Mulcahy said with modesty, not one to make out that he was doing any more than the rest. Far from it, in fact; he felt that he could not do enough to help lost souls through the war, and was always striving to find new ways of providing comfort and morale for those around him, asking for little or nothing in return.  
  
At that moment, the Mess Tent doors were flung open and Klinger, the 4077th Company Clerk skidded to a halt at the end of Colonel Potter's table. "Your Colonel-ness, we've got a problem," he said, trying to catch his breath from the sprint across camp.  
  
"What kind of problem?" Colonel Potter growled, thinking that it was far too early in the day for trouble to arise.  
  
"The stove is on the fritz," Klinger said bluntly, knowing that it was usually best to get straight to the point rather than beat about the bush when explaining to Colonel Potter the many dilemmas that seemed to arise. Those in the tent who had stopped their conversations to listen simultaneously groaned and griping began.  
  
"Klinger, wake up Sergeant Zale and get him to fix it, pronto," Colonel Potter ordered, and waited for a moment for the Clerk to scarper away before addressing those in the tent. "Folks, we've got a slight problem with the stove right now, but rest assured, you will have your meals, you won't go hungry."  
  
"I don't know whether to cheer or groan," Hawkeye muttered, looking at the yellow, lumpy substance that sat lifelessly on his fork, parts of it dripping back into the tray in a bid for freedom.  
  
Suddenly, Hawkeye heard a shout from outside and turned to see Major Winchester marching across the compound, in hot pursuit of Klinger. "Someone woke up cranky from their nap," he commented, before turning back to his food.  
  
Klinger had heard the shout, but he pretended to ignore it as he quickened his pace towards Zale's quarters. Charles tried again, bellowing, "Klinger, you cloth-eared being, stop this instant!"  
  
Klinger decided that it was best to listen, since he seemed to irritate Charles more so with every step, so he halted and turned on his heel. "You hollered, Major?"  
  
"Ah, you eventually heard me," Charles said with sarcasm. "Yes, I did holler, because I wish to know what happened to the mail I ordered yesterday."  
  
"Well sir, I spent two hours after surgery working typing up patient files, cleaning the OR and working in Post-Op, and by the time I went to deliver the letter, you were in bed, so I thought I wouldn't wake you for it."  
  
"Firstly, you should have awoken me, and failing that, you could have left it on my shelf," Charles suggested like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do.  
  
"I thought about that, sir, I really did, but I thought that should some thief come in and take it, then you might rip my head off or something." Klinger looked up at Charles with some fear in his eyes for added effect.  
  
"Well, bring it to me this instant," Charles demanded, determined to get his own way eventually, even if it took forever to get through the seemingly thick skull of Corporal Klinger.  
  
"I can't do that right now, sir," Klinger said in an apologetic tone.  
  
"Why not?" Charles challenged, becoming increasingly infuriated with the constant interventions that prevented him from reading his mail.  
  
"I have to get Zale, the stove needs fixing," Klinger told him plainly, becoming annoyed at the interruptions. He would get Charles' letter, it was on his to-do list, but right then he had to get Zale, why couldn't Charles understand that? Why did he have to think that he was more important than everyone else?  
  
"Can't that wait?" Charles pleaded, at his wits end.  
  
"Not unless you want your lunch at tomorrow's breakfast time," Klinger told him dryly.  
  
Charles sighed and seeing no alternative said, "Fine, go and wake Zale, and I will find the letter myself."  
  
Klinger did not understand why Charles could not have done this in the first place, but he let it pass. "Gee, just because they're an officer doesn't mean they can't do stuff themselves," he muttered to himself as he continued in his tracks to find Zale.  
  
~~~~  
  
AN: Thank you for all the reviews I have received, I really do appreciate knowing what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. Also, I don't know how many people made the connection, but you may remember me better as Becca T, for numerous reasons a change of name was in order. Hope you like this story, cos there's much more to come! 


	5. Chapter Four: Charles' Dilemma

Chapter Four: Charles' Dilemma  
  
~~  
  
After saying goodbye to Father Mulcahy early that afternoon, Hawkeye strolled through the compound, cutting through a tense game of basketball, and made his way into Post-Op, where to his surprise he found BJ still working.  
  
"What are you still doing here?" Hawkeye asked him, walking over to where the doctor was sitting at the desk, making notes.  
  
"And good morning to you too," BJ said, pretending to be offended by this greeting.  
  
"It's now the afternoon, and I thought that Charles was meant to relieve you about four hours ago," Hawkeye said, cross that his friend had apparently done more than his fair share of the work.  
  
"I thought so too, but I guess Charles didn't," BJ said, finishing the form that he had been filling in.  
  
"Well, where is he? We worked our butts off the four days he was lounging around in Tokyo, and is this how he repays you, by skipping his shift? Go out there and give him a piece of my mind before I do!"  
  
"Leave it, Hawk, I don't mind doing the overtime, he can just make it up to me later," BJ said in a laid-back manner. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I can hear my cot calling."  
  
"Get some lunch first, it's the chef's special, sandwiches," Hawkeye said. "It's a treat today, something to eat that's actually edible."  
  
"Whatever happened to cooked food?"  
  
"That went out when the stove did," Hawkeye explained, "Zale's still trying to mend it, but this is Zale we're talking about. We could be having good food for days yet, I don't think my body could adapt to the change."  
  
"I'll wait for dinner, my sandwich will still be there," BJ said. "There haven't been any problems, but Martin hasn't regained consciousness yet."  
  
"Still?" Hawkeye asking, concerned by this. Patients usually woke up, even if only for a few minutes, within twenty-four hours of being admitted to Post-Op. "And he's still stable?"  
  
"Yeah," BJ confirmed.  
  
"I'll keep an eye on him," Hawkeye decided. He looked up to see Klinger walking through the Post-Op ward, and he called out, "Hey, Klinger, can you find Major Winchester and ask him what happened to his shift four hours ago?"  
  
"Oh no, no way," Klinger said firmly. "I have had enough of Major Winchester today, thank you very much. You're looking at a man who could be dead by now, thanks to Major Winchester."  
  
"What if I gave you a direct order?" Hawkeye said, thinking it over like he was contemplating to stay in the war for the rest of his life.  
  
"No way, sir," Klinger said, shaking his head. "How would it look if you had to write on my death certificate that you sent me to my demise, huh?"  
  
"All right, Klinger, what's so wrong about Major Winchester, apart from the fact that he talks like he ate a dictionary for lunch?" Hawkeye asked, realising that Klinger was not being lazy, but there was a real reason for him staying away from Charles.  
  
"I finally gave him his letter from home this morning, and I'm not back in my office a minute when he comes in, demanding that I call Boston for him, there's some desperate news. He looked upset, so I go and spend an hour calling the States, thinking that someone might have died or something important had happened like that. I finally get though, and I'm standing there filing and I overheard his conversation accidentally."  
  
"Accidentally?" Hawkeye asked, thinking it more likely that Klinger had stayed to eavesdrop on the exchange.  
  
"Yeah, well, it turns out that his sister's only got a touch of food poisoning, nothing big, and he thinks it's the end of the world! And that is why he didn't come to Post-Op duty this morning, because he's mourning or something."  
  
"He'd better make up the time," Hawkeye said, slightly softened by Charles' reason for having missed his task. "I'll go and see if he's recovered later."  
  
"He probably won't have, judging by the state I last saw him in. I heard him earlier, muttering to himself about telling his sister time and again not to go to some restaurant with a fancy name that I can't say. I think it was Spanish."  
  
"Thanks, Klinger, see you later," Hawkeye said as Klinger left Post-Op. He turned to BJ and said, "you're shift's over, buddy, you can go home and put your feet up by the stove and read the three-week-old newspaper."  
  
BJ nodded, and slowly got up to leave Post-Op. Hawkeye watched him go, thinking that there was something different about his friend, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He was about to ponder it more when a nurse broke his thoughts. "Doctor, Martin is coming round," she informed him.  
  
Hawkeye smiled, and walked over to the bed with the young soldier in. "Welcome back to the world," he greeted, still smiling.  
  
~~  
  
BJ should have really mentally prepared himself for one of Charles' bigger moaning episodes, but all he wanted was to sleep and it slipped his mind that he would be in for some upper class griping and complaining to reach his ears.  
  
He walked into the Swamp and collapsed on his cot, not possessing the energy to remove his boots, or even to climb under the covers. He lay there for a moment, face down on his pillow, thinking he was alone when he heard a disgruntled cough from the other corner of the room. "Hi, Charles," BJ said, he voice muffled through his pillow.  
  
"Hunnicutt," Charles replied in an even tone, and a blissful moment BJ thought that he was safe from conversation, but it was not to be.  
  
"Have you ever eaten Chicken á la Crème Orange?"  
  
"No," came BJ's muffled reply.  
  
"Exactly, you see sense," Charles continued. "But Honoria, couldn't she have had something else on the menu, such as the duck? If I was at home now, then I could have told her not to go to that restaurant, I don't even want to know the name of it, I could have recommended the Park Hilton or something of that standard."  
  
"She'll get better," BJ muffled, but Charles was evidently beyond reasoning.  
  
"Sure, Hunnicutt, and of course you know exactly what it feels like to receive bad news from home," Charles retorted with sarcasm.  
  
This immediately prompted BJ to get up from his cot and pour himself a drink. "No, of course I don't," he muttered to himself before taking a mouthful of the gin. In a louder voice he said, "I have a perfect life with my perfect family in this perfect world."  
  
Charles was too wound up in his own problems to see that BJ spoke in a mocking tone and agreed with him. "Yes, exactly. And why in God's name are you drinking at half past two o'clock in the afternoon?"  
  
BJ downed the rest of the glass and quickly poured himself another, determined to get as drunk as quickly as possible, if only to blur and block out Charles' incessant bemoaning before he went to sleep.  
  
~~~~ 


	6. Chapter Five: Healing From The Sickbed

Chapter Five: Healing From The Sickbed  
  
~~  
  
The sky cracked across the horizon and the golden rays of sunshine streamed over Korea as dawn broke early in the morning two days later. As the sun rose further and light began to flood into the Swamp, causing Hawkeye to roll over and face away from the brightening outdoors. For a few moments he remained comfortable, until he realised that that the rest of the tent was becoming lighter also. Groaning, he peeled back his eyelids as far as a squint, when the sight of BJ's empty cot caused them to go to their full wide and blinking extent. Rubbing his eyes with the balls of his fists still did not make BJ reappear, so his only answer was to question.  
  
"Charles," Hawkeye began in a groggy voice, "Where's BJ?"  
  
"Post-Op duty," Charles said just as groggily. "He said he'd take my shift."  
  
"He took your shift again?" Hawkeye said in disbelief. "You owe him eight hours now! It's not difficult to do a few hours a day, Charles, why..."  
  
"He offered to take my shift," Charles snarled, irritated at being berated so early in the morning, and without good cause. "I am going to take his afternoon shift, because for some obscure reason he wanted to rise with the rooster at six o'clock this morning and do his Post-Op duty, and I would love nothing better than to have the lie-in which I am currently being denied," he added testily.  
  
Hawkeye sat, dumbstruck and taken aback at this. Why would BJ switch shifts and take the early morning one? He knew that BJ liked his sleep, so why take on a shift that entailed him waking up an hour earlier than usual? Hawkeye decided to ask that very question after breakfast.  
  
~~  
  
"All right, Martin and Anderson can be taken to the 121st Evac. tomorrow," BJ told the nurse as he signed the pieces of paper.  
  
"Yes, Doctor," Nurse Able said before going to file the paperwork. As BJ replaced his pen in his doctor's jacket pocket, Hawkeye entered Post-Op and made a beeline for where he stood.  
  
"You know, the fact that they're called shifts doesn't mean that you can change them just when you feel like it," Hawkeye said, sounding like a teacher lecturing a child before he softened his tone and asked, "Why did you change with Charles?"  
  
"I like to get up and watch the early-morning sun, and the flies over the garbage cans," BJ said with forced humour. "Besides, I thought that Charles needs his beauty sleep."  
  
Just then, Klinger rushed into Post-Op. "Doctors, Father Mulcahy's just driven up, he's in pretty bad shape, you guys had better get out there."  
  
Both Hawkeye and BJ turned on their heel and hurried into the compound, where they found a swarm of onlookers gathering around the jeep containing a Korean woman at the wheel, and a very sick-looking Father Mulcahy in the passenger seat, doubled over a wooden bucket.  
  
"He been sick," the Korean woman said, apparently at a loss for any other words to describe what had happened.  
  
Hawkeye looked in the contents of the bucket and recoiled with eyes clamped shut, saying, "Great diagnosis."  
  
"Let's go, Father, there's a bed with your name on it in Post-Op," BJ said, gently helping the Priest out of the jeep.  
  
The Korean woman followed, babbling, "we most sorry, we not know food bad."  
  
"I think we now have a great idea of the cause," Hawkeye said, before turning to Father Mulcahy and asking, "what did you eat, Father?"  
  
"Chicken," Father Mulcahy said, almost spitting the word out. He added, "at least, that's what I think it was."  
  
"Don't worry, Father, after a few days you'll be able to stomach Mess Tent food once again."  
  
"Looking forward to it," Father Mulcahy said, pushing himself to try not to feel down about this experience. He kept his mouth firmly shut after this, for fear of once again vomiting.  
  
Colonel Potter was waiting in Post-Op, having apparently been told about the malady. "Padre, park it over here," he said, ushering him to a bed. "I hear you've not agreed with something cooked up over the orphanage."  
  
Father Mulcahy nodded as he was helped into a bed. He was handed a kidney dish, should he have the urge to be sick again, and Margaret walked over to take his temperature.  
  
"One hundred," she read.  
  
BJ stepped back and let everyone around Father Mulcahy work to diagnose and provide treatment for his food poisoning. For now he had been forgotten, exactly how he wished for everything to remain.  
  
~~  
  
In the evening of that day, when Father Mulcahy was beginning to recover, he received a surprise visit.  
  
"Good evening, Father," they said, drawing up a chair and sitting beside the bed.  
  
"Why, Major Winchester, this is a pleasant surprise," Father Mulcahy said, wondering if perhaps his fever had launched to delirium and he was dreaming Charles' presence. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Charles assured him. "I came to see how you are, to see whether you were recuperating well following your bout of food poisoning, and to see if Doctor Pierce is treating you well," he added, sending a side-long glance Hawkeye's way.  
  
Father Mulcahy had now decided that this was definitely a dream, but he decided to go along with it. "Well, thank you Major, I am recovering well thank you, the staff are doing a great job."  
  
Charles nodded and said, "You see, Father, I received word not three days ago that my dear sister Honoria was stricken with your ailment, and I was most distressed at this. Of course, I was troubled to learn you were also suffering from this dreadful illness, but you must understand, being in Korea when my family are ill..."  
  
"No need to explain, I understand," Father Mulcahy said genially. "How is your sister, have you heard from home?"  
  
"Klinger graciously placed a call through to Boston for me, but in the time spent waiting for that call I was, well in all honesty I was terrified. Even afterwards I was upset, because I wasn't there to give her medical attention. But during sleep that night, I realised that she would be fine, even without me being there to make sure of it."  
  
"I'm glad all is well now, Major," Father Mulcahy said sincerely. "I hope our little chat has helped you to let off some steam, as it were."  
  
"Little chat? Why, I was merely checking to see how you were," Charles said self-importantly before quickly scraping the chair back. "I will be on Post-Op duty tomorrow, make sure you get some rest." With that, he strode out of Post-Op.  
  
Hawkeye strolled over to Father Mulcahy and said, "he thanks you really."  
  
"I know," Father Mulcahy said, nodding. "I don't need to know that I've helped by him saying so, I can see I have. I mean, he's back to his normal self again."  
  
Hawkeye laughed, thinking about how true that was. Charles was back to being a peg above the rest, and for the moment he was back to being his normal, snooty self.  
  
~~~~  
  
Note: Sorry I haven't posted in a while, some error keeps happening when I try to Log On, so postings might be few and far between for a while. Keep reading though, because I'm still busy writing :-) 


	7. Chapter Six: Hot Stuff

Chapter Six: Hot Stuff  
  
~~  
  
It was just gone ten o'clock in the evening when the rain started, when everyone was just filing out of the OR after another lengthy session of surgery. Six hours later, the storm was in full swing, keeping every single member of the unit awake and restless. The flimsy tenting swayed and flapped in the wind, the sheets of rain dripped through rips in the sodden canvas, and thunder and lightning cracked and lit up the sky of Korea. It was the kind of night that only a fool would dare step outside.  
  
As Klinger ran across the compound, he could hear the grumbles about the storm from Charles, and Hawkeye's ranting comments. The Corporal quickly entered Colonel Potter's tent and slammed shut the door, keeping out the noise of the whistling wind, causing the CO to wake up with a start.  
  
"Klinger! What in the name of McArthur's pipe are you doing in here at this hour?"  
  
"S-sorry, s-sir," Klinger said, his teeth chattering from the cold and his breath all too visible as he spoke. "I h-have bad news t-to report."  
  
"Bad news? More wounded?"  
  
"No, sir, it's the stove again," Klinger said, feeling warmer by the minute being inside a tent. He was amazed at how much difference the canvas made, despite it being so thin. "It's really gone this time, no life left in it."  
  
"Dang, and Zale's just gone on R&R," Colonel Potter said, mentally cursing the rotten timing. Zale had gone away to Seoul two days before, an event that went almost unnoticed due to Father Mulcahy arriving in the state he was in, and the Sergeant was due back the day after tomorrow. Knowing that the camp could not go for two days without a working stove, Colonel Potter said, "All right, Klinger, it's up to you. Get Igor and a toolkit, and do your worst."  
  
Sighing, Klinger replied, "Yes sir."  
  
~~  
  
Much to Igor's disgruntlement, the two set about working on the stove, and had been working on it for about an hour when the storm started to fade away and the sun began to rise. In the Swamp, conversation began to become louder as the inmates began to feel more awake.  
  
"Did anyone get any sleep last night?" Hawkeye asked before yawning and stretching.  
  
"Not a whole lot," BJ admitted, he too yawning as though it were contagious, "What time is it?" Looking at his watch he answered his own question, "Five a.m.? Another hour and I'll be on duty."  
  
Hawkeye knew that something had been niggling at him, something that he had forgotten to do, say, ask, and this caused him to remember what it was. With some amount of tact, he asked, "hey, how come Potter's been forcing all these early shifts on you?"  
  
"I told you, Pierce, Hunnicutt over there asked for the shifts, nothing was forced upon him," Charles said in a groggy voice, apparently having been awoken by the conversation.  
  
So much for tact, Hawkeye thought to himself. BJ said, "Like Charles just said, I asked for the shifts." He knew that Hawkeye would ask why, it was the automatic question, and already BJ was beginning to plan the answer.  
  
Hawkeye was at a loss for shrewdness, so he just came out with the question that he would have danced around and about, had he possessed the skill of doing so that early in the morning. "But why?"  
  
BJ stopped for a moment, refusing to answer. That was when an explosive blast rocked and broke the silence.  
  
All three in the Swamp covered their heads with their arms, and even after the noise had stopped, they were wary to look out, thinking at first that they were being shelled. When they did some seconds later, Hawkeye and BJ glanced at each other, and Hawkeye voiced what they were both thinking. "What the Hell was that?"  
  
Charles dared glance out of the netting of his tent and gasped. "My God, the kitchen, it's ablaze!"  
  
All three were out of their cots, into some boots and robes and out of the tent in mere seconds. Others had gathered outside to see what the commotion was about, and were at that moment being ordered to form a chain to deliver water from the tower, to extinguish the fire.  
  
As this was being done, Colonel Potter found the three doctors. "Klinger and Igor are in there, I told them to fix the stove," he said breathlessly, his concern evident in his voice.  
  
"We'll get them out," Hawkeye promised him, before he joined the others at the front of the chain to throw the water over the flames that licked at one wall of the kitchen.  
  
With the help of the chain of water buckets being passed, the fire was soon under control, and Hawkeye and BJ could go into the smoke-filled room to search for Igor and Klinger.  
  
BJ first stumbled across one of them quite literately, his boot brushing past something on the floor. "Hawk, I've found Igor," BJ called out, having enough light to see who it was, but not enough to determine the extent of injuries. He dragged him out of the room whilst Hawkeye continued to search.  
  
"Klinger!" Hawkeye called, choking on the smoke as he did so. He searched almost blindly around the smoggy room, and after another minute found the Corporal slumped against some shelving in the corner, unconscious. "Come on, Klinger," Hawkeye said, shaking his shoulders slightly in the hope that he might get a response. Nothing. Hawkeye with ever more speed practically threw Klinger over his shoulder and jogged out of the room, with both care and speed. "Max, I hope you can hear me, I'm going to charge you for my hernia," he warned the unconscious Klinger.  
  
Choking as he did so, Hawkeye lay Klinger down on the ground outside and began to check for injuries. He was beyond relief to find a pulse, and began to check the rest of him. "Concussion, smoke inhalation, and possible cracked ribs, I'll need a stretcher and an x-ray," he called to anyone without a job.  
  
Colonel Potter listened and breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know for now that the injuries were not life threatening, and even more glad to know that Klinger was alive to see another day. He headed over to where BJ and Charles were tending to Igor's injuries, a situation that did not seem so good.  
  
"Second degree burns to the arms, I need a cloth and water here, stat," BJ shouted furiously, knowing that time was of the essence. Margaret had prepared for this possible situation, and presented him with the required items almost immediately. BJ lightly ran water over the raw red areas of skin with the wet cloth whilst Charles checked the rest of the injuries.  
  
"Concussion, abrasion and contusion to the left temple, smoke inhalation, no broken bones," he said, rattling off the symptoms efficiently. "A stretcher here, take him straight to Post-Op and continue to immerse the burns in clean, cold water."  
  
Colonel Potter slowed his pace as he walked beside Klinger's stretcher, before he totally stopped and let events take place around him as the shock began to sink in. The adrenaline that had compelled him to give orders and organise everyone so efficiently just those moments ago had gone, and he was left standing, wondering how on earth such chaos could take place so early in the day. "If this is what sunup is like, I can't wait for sundown," he said to himself, before clearing his head and driving his feet to go forward and take him to Post-Op, where he could look in on the newest patients.  
  
~~~~  
  
Note: Thanks for all my reviews, I'm glad you like what I'm writing, keep reading! Frankie - this idea refused to leave me alone so I had to play with it, but I will be getting back to the Against All Odds series as soon as I'm done with this, don't worry! 


	8. Chapter Seven: Losing Grip

Chapter Seven: Losing Grip  
  
~~  
  
Klinger felt as though he was swimming in some kind of dark gooey sea, almost too dense to navigate through well. The sea became lighter, like something had pierced it and light was flooding in. The light made it easier to swim through, and he began to float to the top. He groaned and coughed as he realised that he was not in a sea, he was in fact in a bed in Post-Op, half-conscious and in a considerable amount of pain.  
  
"Urrgh," Klinger moaned, opening and closing his eyes a few times to sharpen his vision. He turned his head to the side, and saw a close-up some khaki-clothed knees. He looked up, and saw Colonel Potter chatting to a nurse. The Colonel saw that Klinger was awake, and quickly finished the discussion before speaking to the patient.  
  
"Well, Sleeping Beauty awakens," Colonel Potter said with a smile, glad to see that Klinger was finally conscious. It had been several hours since he and Igor had been brought into Post-Op, and he had spent most of the time there, waiting for news on the conditions of both soldiers. "How're you doing?"  
  
"Not so bad," Klinger croaked, he too managing to crack a smile, "My head hurts, and my chest killing me, but at least I'm alive."  
  
"Amen to that," Colonel Potter said quietly, ever thankful that both Klinger and Igor had survived the incident that could have so easily ended up in tragedy. The sight of the burning building had brought his heart up to his chest, and despite seeming cool and calm on the outside, inside he had feared the worst.  
  
"What happened to me, how does the Doc say I'm doing?"  
  
"The Doc says you're doing well," Hawkeye said, overhearing the conversation as he strolled over to the bed and replaced his pen in his pocket. "The pain in your head is due to a concussion you picked up whilst falling down, you also have bruised ribs, but other than that you're doing well. How do you feel?"  
  
"Like a got beat up and thrown under some guy's barbeque," Klinger said, laughing slightly before launching into a coughing fit.  
  
"Hey, no jokes until your chest says so," Hawkeye said, concealing his concern with wisecracks as he usually did. "And you're not far off with that, you and Igor were fixing the stove, that's how you got a ticket to hospital."  
  
"Igor! Is he okay?"  
  
"He's going to be fine, he's suffered from second-degree burns but..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"He'll be all right,Hehe" Hawkeye finished, happy to deliver some good news in a place containing so often too much bad news. At first the doctors were worried about Igor's burns, but once immersed in water they did not pose a problem, and the scarring on his hands would only be minor, hardly noticeable.  
  
"Listen, Max, what happened in there, with that stove?" Colonel Potter asked, feeling guilty that he had sent both men in there. At the time it looked like the best option, but now he felt bad knowing that he may have sent two people to their death all because he wanted some breakfast. Now, with a kitchen in stages of repair, food could only be delivered from surrounding M*A*S*H units, and although it was difficult to believe, the food was more indigestible than before.  
  
"I don't really know, Colonel," Klinger said absently. "One minute my back was turned, getting a tool for Igor, and the next I hear him yell and I'm thrown against a sack of something, and all I manage to do was sit up before I pass out. I'm sorry, but that's all I can remember."  
  
"Don't worry, maybe we can find out some more from Igor when he wakes up," Colonel Potter said, hoping that this would be done sooner rather than later. "For the moment, you get some rest, all right? I've got Rizzo looking after your Clerk duties, so you don't need to worry about anything except getting better."  
  
"Rizzo? He'll mess up all my filing!" Klinger complained indignantly, already imagining the mess he would return to when he was discharged from the hospital.  
  
"You mean there's a way to mess it up even more?" Hawkeye asked in surprise, ducking as a pillow was thrown in his direction, but smiling to himself, as he was glad to see Klinger getting back to normal.  
  
~~  
  
BJ was drinking from the Still again the next evening, by half past eight he was on his fourth glass. Most people liked to go over to the Officer's Club for their drinks, but he preferred to wallow in his misery on his own. If people saw how much he was drinking, they would begin to ask questions about him, his life and his liver. One of the purposes of taking early morning shifts was to make sure that he had the evening free to drink himself to sleep.  
  
Hawkeye entered the Swamp, having finished his shift in Post-Op, and immediately poured himself a drink, seeing that BJ already had one of his own.  
  
"How are Klinger and Igor, and Father Mulcahy?" BJ asked, trying to pretend that he was more sober than he actually was. He had spent the last few days trying to perfect this, and he had so far discovered that talking should be kept to a minimum, and that any talking should be in the form of questioning the sober person.  
  
"Getting along better," Hawkeye told him, settling himself on his cot and taking a sip of the fiery liquid. It trickled down his throat, burning a trail on the way down, and settled in a cold pit inside his stomach where it proceeded to melt the contents of it, which was that evening's dinner. "Father Mulcahy has now been cleared of food poisoning and left Post-Op this afternoon, Igor's awake now and his burns are healing, and Klinger had a walk to the Mess Tent this evening, and survived it." He paused before asking, "What are we drinking to?"  
  
"Two in the morning," BJ declared, raising his glass before gulping it down. He would probably pass out before then, but he didn't really care, he had grabbed the time out of the air because it sounded about right.  
  
Hawkeye watched BJ carefully as he unsteadily got to his feet to pour himself another, trying to figure out what was going on in the mind of his friend. He looked at his clothes, his baggy clothes, and said, "Did you get someone else's clothes back in the laundry or something?"  
  
"Probably," BJ said vaguely, swaying slightly as he poured the liquid into his well-used martini glass. He spilt some on the table, and as he bent down to get a dirty t-shirt to wipe it up, he slipped sideways and toppled to the ground, knocking his head hard against his cot.  
  
Hawkeye winced as the scene unfolded before him, and was immediately on his feet to check for any injuries that could have been picked up during the fall. He lifted BJ slightly, and was surprised at how light he felt. "Hey, I know I always tell you to use your head, but I think this was taking it too far."  
  
BJ groaned and rolled his head, before placing his hand to the epicentre of the pain, finding that when he took it away, it covered in blood. "Ouch," he murmured to himself, not altogether alert. The room was spinning like a merry-go-round, and BJ wasn't quite sure whether it was due to the bump on the head, the alcohol, a combination of both, or what else.  
  
With the help of Hawkeye he staggered to his feet, his knees almost buckling beneath him, but Hawkeye was hanging onto him tightly. "Come on, let's get you to Post-Op where they can take a look at your head," Hawkeye said, still hanging on as BJ stumbled out of the Swamp and across the compound.  
  
Colonel Potter was on duty that night in Post-Op, where a nurse would usually be on duty the Colonel had opted to, because one of the wounded brought in had developed a fever and he wanted to monitor his progress personally, and be on hand in case measures became more drastic. He looked up from his paperwork and was surprised to see Hawkeye dragging BJ through the doors of the ward.  
  
"What happened?" He asked in disbelief as he left his work and got up to investigate as to why one of his surgeons had blood dribbling down the side of his face. He'd already had three members of his staff admitted to the hospital in the past few days, he really did not want to settle for four.  
  
"The booze got to his head and weighed it down," Hawkeye explained with some humour, helping BJ into a seat before he went to get the equipment needed to clean up the cut on his friend's temple.  
  
Colonel Potter did not see the funny side, and decided to make this perfectly clear. "What do you think you're playing at, Hunnicutt, getting drunk beyond control? I hope that sore noggin sobered you up a bit, enough so that you can get the message I'm sending across here. I've been down three staff for the past few days or so, and that was through no fault of their own, I don't need to have someone else end up in here due to them not being able to hold their drink, because the last thing I need is a Post-Op with more staff in the beds than patients!"  
  
"All right, let me solve your problem for you, see you later!"  
  
BJ had sat through the entire lecture with a stony face, waiting with patience until Colonel Potter had stopped shouting. The instant that had happened, the volcano inside him that had sat dormant, bubbling away, had exploded and BJ's unseen fiery temper had gone with it. He stormed out of Post-Op, albeit unsteadily, and out into the Korean night, leaving a shocked Colonel Potter and a ward full of fearing patients.  
  
Hawkeye returned quickly with his medical supplies, having heard some fierce shouting coming from Post-Op, to see BJ's retreating back. "What happened?"  
  
Colonel Potter sighed, and with regret in his voice said, "I blew up at him for being drunk, and he blew back and left." Colonel Potter hadn't meant it like that, really, he was just concerned for BJ's health, and concerned that so many people in his unit had become injured lately. The tension gathered from Father Mulcahy's food poisoning, and in particular the accident involving Klinger and Igor had been let out on BJ, who in reality did not really deserve it, no one deserved it. Colonel Potter suddenly realised the full extent of his actions. "Damn, he's probably got a concussion, I shouldn't have done that."  
  
Hawkeye, still holding the medical supplies, immediately went out into cold Korean night to search for BJ.  
  
~~~~ 


	9. Chapter Eight: Breakfast

Chapter Eight: Breakfast  
  
"Good morning, Igor," Colonel Potter said brightly, glad to see the Private back at work behind the pots of food. It was Igor's first morning back in his normal job, and though his hands still had one layer of bandaging on them, he was doing well thus far, and had not complained of the slight scarring or the pain that he had been in. He was just thankful that he had lived, and that everything was more or less intact.  
  
"Good morning, sir," Igor replied just as cheerily. "For today's breakfast, we are serving powdered eggs that have apparently been scrambled, some toast, and the special is pancakes."  
  
"Let's have a forkful of those manhole covers, they look edible," Colonel Potter said, pointing to the almost appetising pancakes. He took a slice of toast in case when he got to the table and found that looks were deceiving, and poured himself a cup of coffee before making his way to a table that already had Margaret, Father Mulcahy and Klinger seated at it.  
  
"Morning, crew," Colonel Potter greeted, setting himself and his tray at the table and taking a slurp of coffee to prepare himself for his breakfast. "How goes it?"  
  
"Well, thank you, Colonel," Father Mulcahy said, rarely having a bad word to be said about anything. "Food is becoming more tempting, now."  
  
"Good to know," Colonel Potter said, glad to see that the good Father was recovering well from his bout of food poisoning. "Life seems to be returning to normal, what with both you and Igor out of Post-Op, and Klinger being discharged today. It was quite unnerving, to see three of my staff in the beds when I walked past," he chuckling, making light of the situation, but thinking to himself that three was more than enough.  
  
Few people knew what had happened in the Post-Op ward that previous evening, and contrary to the usual rumours that were spread around the 4077th quicker than a lit rope doused in petrol, those few that knew, including Klinger and Margaret, knew better than to gossip about something like that.  
  
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have Sunday's sermon to prepare," Father Mulcahy said, standing up with his tray and leaving the Mess Tent. With only two days until Sunday, and with no fewer than two Christians in the Post-Op ward asking about Sunday services, he had incentive to write a worthy address for that particular Sunday.  
  
"Listen, folks, word from the big guys say that we could be expecting wounded this evening, so we need all the patients that can to be shipped out today to be shipped out today, and I need you, Margaret, to check that we have enough supplies, because apparently this shift's gonna be a long one, maybe twenty hours."  
  
"I'll have it done after breakfast," Margaret promised him, in any case already ready should there be a surprise batch of wounded rolling into the M*A*S*H unit. "I'll also start rounding up some blood donors, in case we run into short supply."  
  
"Good girl," Colonel Potter commended her, before he looked up to see Hawkeye heading towards the table. "Morning, Pierce, sleep well?"  
  
"Fine, eventually," Hawkeye said, settling in his seat before stabbing a pancake with his fork and inspecting it and placing it cautiously in his mouth. "Needs syrup," he said with his mouth full, reaching for the jug of syrup.  
  
"Did you find him last night?" Margaret asked, having not been informed of anything since Hawkeye had set off to search for BJ.  
  
"Yeah," Hawkeye said seriously, before taking another bite of the pancakes.  
  
It hadn't taken long for Hawkeye to find BJ when he set out, it was a case of watching the shadowy figure hurrying into the night, the only moving thing in the compound. Hawkeye had followed him, but he had kept back some distance, allowing BJ some space. BJ had stopped at the outskirts of camp, leaning back against a corrugated iron wall of a building to catch his breath.  
  
Hawkeye had picked this moment to go up to BJ and to talk to him. He walked over to his friend, and stood for a moment, both of them staring into the distance, before he said, "He didn't mean it, he just had one too many bounces on the saddle today."  
  
"He's right, though."  
  
That statement had been like a sharp kick for Hawkeye, to hear BJ so distant, so uncaring, so willing to give in like that. He knew that BJ wasn't a fighter by any means, and didn't tend to be stirred up without cause, but he also knew that he didn't usually give in like that without giving his side of the story, by just holding up the white flag and surrendering like that.  
  
"It's not your fault, alcohol does that to you," Hawkeye had said, trying to reason with BJ, but he was beyond it.  
  
"It is my fault, though. I took the alcohol when I was sober, I knew what it would do to me, no one's to blame but me," BJ said in a cold, lifeless voice.  
  
Eventually, Hawkeye had managed to escort BJ back to the Swamp, but during the conversation beforehand, he had not managed to find out what had been bothering BJ. He knew for sure that something was, but his friend simply would not open up to him and tell him what, leaving Hawkeye feeling totally and utterly helpless.  
  
"Where is BJ this morning?" Margaret asked, breaking Hawkeye's thoughts. Up until recently, the pair had done almost everything together, and that included at mealtimes, but lately BJ had distanced himself from everybody.  
  
"Probably in Post-Op," Hawkeye said, thinking to himself that this was where BJ spent most of his mornings lately. In fact, he hadn't eaten breakfast with him in a long time.  
  
"Not today, I sent Winchester on duty this morning," Colonel Potter said, taking a slurp of coffee and continuing, "After last night, I thought that Hunnicutt could use some sleep."  
  
"Some sleep? So why wasn't he in his bunk when I woke up this morning?" Hawkeye demanded to know, before abandoning his tray to find out where exactly BJ was.  
  
"HOLD IT," Colonel Potter said in a voice that could not be ignored by even the most determined friend. Hawkeye turned around, impatiently waiting for what Colonel Potter had to say before he went to look for BJ. Colonel Potter, in a calmer voice, continued, "I want a meeting with you three surgeons in my office in two minutes, and so I will make an announcement to the camp, which will hopefully stir Captain Hunnicutt, and he will make his way to my office like the rest of us."  
  
Hawkeye knew that Colonel Potter made sense, so he nodded and sat down again. "What's the meeting about, Colonel?"  
  
"You'll find out soon enough," he said, tapping his nose.  
  
~~~~ 


	10. Chapter Nine: Opportunity

Chapter Nine: Opportunity  
  
~~  
  
"All present and correct?" Colonel Potter asked, looking around the room to check. Charles was sitting, checking his watch, as he had been interrupted during his shift in Post-Op and he wanted to return to his work as soon as possible. BJ was leaning against the wall, staring into the distance as if concentrating used up too much energy. Hawkeye was fidgeting in his seat, he was anxious to speak to BJ, but Colonel Potter would not let this continue until the meeting was over.  
  
"Now, an Aid Station up the Front is making an exchange with us, surgeon for surgeon, to keep up with techniques. I realise that it would be better for M*A*S*H units to exchange with each other, because we're working the same system, but these aren't my orders, and I don't question them. Captain David Shawcross will be arriving after lunch today, and I need one of you doctors to travel up to his unit for this evening. I need you to leave sharp, we're expecting a heavy load of casualties by sundown, so things will be hopping later on. So, who wants to go?"  
  
Charles and Hawkeye threw each other looks, mentally telling the other to be the one to volunteer to go. That was until BJ stuck his hand up and said, "I'll go."  
  
Colonel Potter had hoped and prayed that one of the other two would have volunteered, following the events of the previous night. "I think you went last time, Hunnicutt, wouldn't..."  
  
"Charles went last time," BJ reminded him blandly.  
  
Hawkeye suddenly saw his chance. He knew that something was up with BJ, but he didn't know what. He had toyed with the idea of going through his bunkmate's belongings, just to find out exactly what it was that had upset him over the past three weeks or so. With BJ gone, it would give him plenty of chance to find out exactly what it was. He kept quiet, hoping that Colonel Potter would allow BJ to go.  
  
Seeing no other option, as the other two were apparently not going to relent, Colonel Potter sighed and said, "Rizzo will have a jeep for you, pack your bags and report to Klinger for the travelling papers. You leave in an hour."  
  
"Yes, sir," BJ said quickly, leaving the room to pack his belongings. Charles too left, having assumed that the meeting was over, so that he could return to his work in Post-Op.  
  
Colonel Potter and Hawkeye were left alone in the office, which gave Colonel Potter a chance to air his feelings. "I don't suppose it occurred to you to take a trip up there, did it? BJ doesn't seem to be himself lately, and I don't know about you but I think that maybe you volunteering to go up to the Front might have been of some help to him?"  
  
"On the contrary, Colonel, I'm helping him by staying right here, in the 4077th," Hawkeye said, sitting and crossing his arms, a signal to the Colonel that he was not moving.  
  
"How is your staying here a help?" Colonel Potter demanded to know, both his temper and blood pressure in danger of rising. It was like Hawkeye didn't seem to care, that he was too self-absorbed to see that something was definitely not right with BJ, Colonel Potter thought to himself.  
  
"Colonel, I don't know whether you've noticed or not, but something has been up with BJ for a while," Hawkeye said, beginning to become annoyed with Colonel, as he felt that his CO was in some way blaming him for what was happening. "He won't open up to me, and God knows I tried to get him to. I know I'll be invading his privacy when I do this, but when he's gone I plan on going through his footlocker to find something, a clue, anything, to tell me what's been going on."  
  
This silenced Colonel Potter, and gave him a moment to think this through. This would be an answer, yes, but was it the only answer, and if it were, would it lead them to the cause of the problem? In the end, he decided, "something has to be done. Keep it between us, though, we don't want the whole camp to know about this unofficial search or they'll get suspicious."  
  
"Understood, Colonel, I'll start as soon as he's gone," Hawkeye said, getting up from his chair before throwing Colonel Potter a mock salute and leaving the office. He walked through Klinger's office and was about to leave when he stopped, turned to Klinger and said, "I guess that goes for you, too."  
  
"I won't say a word, sir," Klinger said, not looking up from his filing.  
  
~~  
  
Hawkeye returned to the Swamp to find BJ packing a few things for his trip up to the Front. He watched as BJ held a T-shirt in front of him, to check that it was reasonably clean, and Hawkeye noticed how large the shirt looked compared to BJ's own figure. Maybe it's Charles' shirt, Hawkeye thought to himself.  
  
"Pick me up something from the Front," Hawkeye said with some humour, picking up a book and flicking through.  
  
"Like what? A grenade?" BJ murmured, searching for a clean pair of socks.  
  
"Guess not," Hawkeye said to himself, wondering where BJ's sense of humour had gone.  
  
A few minutes later, Klinger walked into the Swamp with the mailbag hanging off of his neck. "I come bearing letters," he announced, holding up a few envelopes. "Pierce, B.F, three times over," he said, presenting Hawkeye with the letters, before adding, "and not forgetting this."  
  
"Great, my Nudist Volleyball Monthly!" Hawkeye said, eagerly tearing the wrapper off of the magazine and flipping through. "Mmm, I just love nude volleyball after breakfast. What'd you get, BJ?" Hawkeye asked, not peeling his eyes away from the pages.  
  
"Nothing for you, Captain," Klinger reported, checking through his mailbag a third time, just in case he had missed anything. It wasn't like BJ to not receive any mail, especially after a fairly long delay where the letters would usually pile up.  
  
Hawkeye had noticed this too, and said, "Maybe you left them in your office, Klinger?"  
  
"Maybe it's just been a slow month at home or something," BJ said casually, waving away any other notion that the two might be thinking. He'd managed to keep up the pretence that everything was fine at home for this long, and he hoped that he could do it for longer. Tactfully changing the subject, he asked Klinger, "Do you have the driving orders?"  
  
"On my desk, Captain," Klinger said, leaving a few letters on Charles' bed. "They're all signed, so all you have to do is picked them up. Good luck," he added, rather BJ than him that was travelling to the Front.  
  
"Thanks," BJ said, picking up his small bag, plus his medical bag and helmet, and threw them into the waiting jeep before heading over to Klinger's office to collect the papers.  
  
"Something's screwy with him," Klinger noted before exiting the tent.  
  
For a moment, Hawkeye pondered over what Klinger's statement before he said to himself, "I couldn't have said it better."  
  
~~~~ 


	11. Chapter Ten: Revelations I

Chapter Ten: Revelations I  
  
~~  
  
In the end, the search through BJ's footlocker was not as thorough as Hawkeye had first planned it to be. At first, he had had the drive to search carefully, but soon the realisation of what he was doing sunk in, and he more or less stopped looking and gave up. Besides, most of the recent letters contained nothing that would explain BJ's recently neurotic behaviour, they were just normal letters with domestic news from Peg, and crayon-penned letters from Erin.  
  
He had to cut his hunt short in any case, because the wounded began to roll in only two hours after BJ had left at about eleven o'clock, far earlier than expected, in deluge form. Staff were literally tripping over casualties in the compound as they ran with haste to and from their various jobs. Doctors and nurses flew between patients trying to assess their injuries and wounds with hardly the time to breathe. And that was just the triage procedure.  
  
Surgery was a long, arduous, draining experience for all involved, particularly for Dr Shawcross, who had just arrived and had barely time to test his cot before he was whisked away to perform surgery. Hawkeye, who had not met the new doctor before surgery, was resecting a bowel when he realised this, and decided to begin a conversation with him. "So, Doctor Shawcross, how do you like this place so far?"  
  
"Well, if this is the welcoming committee, then I can't wait for the leaving party," he said, working efficiently through his operation, "Call me David, by the way."  
  
"Since we're not going for formalities, I'm Hawkeye, Charles is the one who operates with his nose and mask in the air, and at the far table Colonel Potter." Hawkeye liked the man already, as he wasn't the formal army type, he had a sense of humour, and he seemed to be a good surgeon. He was glad of this, as many temporary doctors that had been assigned to the unit always seemed to possess one great flaw.  
  
"What are the medical procedures like up at the Front, David?" Colonel Potter asked, he too trying to make conversation in an OR that seemed almost too sterile, plus it was always interesting to find out about any new medical techniques that could be used during surgery.  
  
"Medical procedure is a term used loosely up at the Aid Station I work in," David explained. "Our motto is to put them together long enough to withstand a journey to one of your M*A*S*H outfits, so you guys can finish the rest. I haven't done this kind of work for a while, I hope I'm doing all right."  
  
Charles, who was nearest to David's table, took a moment to look over his shoulder and take a glance at the doctor's work. "Everything seems to be in good order," he commented, inspecting the work, "Good job, Doctor."  
  
"Praise from Charles? I never thought I'd see the day," Hawkeye said spectacularly, as though the event were as special as the day a new President won an election.  
  
Hours passed, and chitchat continued smoothly as the doctors and nurses slowly worked through the line of patients that were all waiting for treatment. Nearing the end of what had been eighteen hours of surgery, Colonel Potter said, "All right, close for me," before he snapped off his surgical gloves. "Is that it?"  
  
"There's no more wounded," Klinger confirmed as he walked in with another corpsman to see if Colonel Potter had wanted anything. "I told you that an hour ago, that's why Captain Pierce left. He said he would have stayed to see how it ended, but Major Houlihan said he looked dead on his feet and that he should go back to the Swamp to get some sleep."  
  
"I must not have heard," Colonel Potter murmured, not really thinking it surprising considering how tired he was. He sighed and said, "Klinger, get on the horn to the Aid Station that Hunnicutt went to, I want to see that he made it there in one piece."  
  
"Yes sir," Klinger said, leaving the room to make the call.  
  
~~ It was about five o'clock in the morning when Colonel Potter had dragged his feet out of surgery and into the Mess tent. In here, as well as finding a steaming cup of coffee, he found Igor setting up the Mess Tent for breakfast. "Hi, Colonel," he said, walking over to Colonel Potter. "Holding up okay?"  
  
"Been better," Colonel Potter said, gratefully sipping the steaming liquid in the cup. Everything had been better, like the amount of wounded that had rolled in, the war, even the coffee. "Speaking of better, what's it like to be back at work again?"  
  
"Great, sir," Igor said earnestly, and Colonel Potter was glad to hear that zeal in the Private's voice. "It's great to see everyone back again, well, almost everyone," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"Almost everyone?" Colonel Potter questioned, only half listening as fatigue threatened to take over and his eyelids were in danger of closing.  
  
"Yeah, I haven't seen Captain Hunnicutt since I've come back," Igor rambled on. "I mean, I usually notice when I serve him, because he always has something funny to say about the food, like the time he said that my mashed potatoes looked like something his kid threw up once, okay that wasn't funny but you know what I mean. Come to think of it, I didn't see him so much even before I wound up in the hospital..."  
  
Colonel Potter had not heard anything past Igor's statement that BJ had not been into the Mess Tent since Igor had returned to his duties there, as it had suddenly got him thinking. He knew well that all was not well with BJ, but he couldn't put his finger on what, and suddenly something had occurred to him. "Igor, can you remember the last time you saw BJ in the Mess Tent?"  
  
Igor thought hard about this, muttering, "It's been a while," before he finally said, "It must have been about ten days ago."  
  
"Why didn't you say anything?" Colonel Potter exclaimed.  
  
"I'm sorry, Colonel, I serve a helluva lot of people in here, and until you said it I really didn't think about it," Igor said indignantly.  
  
Colonel Potter nodded, knowing that it was by no means Igor's fault. "I'm sorry, son, I shouldn't have snapped," he said, slightly annoyed at how many times he had flown off the handle in recent days. "Excuse me, I have a phone call to make." With that, he left Igor to his own devices.  
  
~~~~ 


	12. Chapter Eleven: Revelations II

Chapter Eleven: Revelations II  
  
~~  
  
Having arrived at the Aid Station mid-way through a flood of wounded, BJ had completed his work twelve hours later at about eleven o'clock in the evening, and so left to get some sleep in the quarters with the other men. Unfortunately, though, the company were woken four hours later by some shelling, and some orders to Bug Out, an unplanned event in BJ's schedule during his stay at the Aid Station.  
  
He helped the unit to pack their small establishment away, before a Major addressed him loudly, who did his best to be heard above the shelling. "I think it would be best if you travelled back to the 4077th, Captain, as the shelling can get pretty heavy around these parts. I don't know what kind of exercise they thought this would be, exchanging a M*A*S*H doctor with one of our Aid guys, but that's the army for you, I guess. You can follow us part of the way in your jeep, I assume you know the turning to take?"  
  
"Yes sir," BJ shouted back, wondering how he was going to be able to find it in the early morning light. The sun was just beginning to rise, so optimistically BJ thought that by the time it came to the turning, there would be enough light to see it.  
  
"Good luck, Captain," the Major said, giving a casual salute, which BJ returned almost as casually. He got into his jeep, and waited for the other vehicles to go before he joined onto the end, the shelling doings it best to drown out the noise of the engines. BJ gripped the wheel tightly, wishing that the jeeps and trucks could move faster, as the bombing seemed to be creeping closer and closer. Another minute, and it would be breathing right down the back of BJ's neck.  
  
~~  
  
"Bugged out? What do you mean, they've bugged out?! When?"  
  
Colonel Potter had just been delivered the less than good news by an unfortunate Corporal in the telephone exchange. "A-an hour ago, s-sir," the young man stammered, quite afraid at the irate man on the other end of the line. "T-they moved south, they're just setting up the last I heard, s- so I can probably get a line within the hour."  
  
Colonel Potter sighed and agreed to this, knowing that there would be no faster way to get in touch with BJ. "Call me back when you can reach them," he said tersely before almost throwing the receiver back in the bag.  
  
Klinger, who had been filing papers at the time, asked, "Problems at the Aid Station?"  
  
"The only problem is that its not there anymore," Colonel Potter growled, still very annoyed that he had not been informed of the situation sooner, considering that one of his men was out there. Then again, he knew that if the fighting was close, the first and about only thing on the mind of the staff was to get out fast and to get out alive, and other problems such as calling Colonel Potter would be dealt with when everyone was safe. "They bugged out, the shelling got too close," he explained.  
  
"Do you know where they went?"  
  
"Not yet," Colonel Potter told him, "there should be a phone call within the next hour to confirm that, and hopefully I'll be able to talk to Captain Hunnicutt and find out exactly why he decided to stop visiting the Mess Tent."  
  
Colonel Potter winced as he said this, and Klinger gave him a questioning look. Colonel Potter had planned to tell Hawkeye about what Igor had told him after he had awoken from his nap, and without Klinger in the room, but in his anger and frustration he let it slip out.  
  
"What are you talking about, Colonel?" Klinger asked him, very concerned by what his CO had just said.  
  
"Don't worry, Max, I..."  
  
"Don't worry? What am I supposed to do, pretend I never heard that?"  
  
Colonel Potter opened his mouth to say yes, but then he realised that it would not be possible and so shook his head no. "I'm sorry, I never meant for you to hear that," he said, wishing that he had just kept his big mouth shut. "I was going to tell Hawkeye when he woke up, I don't want it going around the camp, you see."  
  
"I wouldn't tell anyone something like that," Klinger said sincerely.  
  
Colonel Potter saw that Klinger was clearly concerned, and so decided that it would be best to let him in on what was going on. "Go and get Captain Pierce," he paused for a moment, and then added, "and Major Houlihan, and we'll talk about it in my office."  
  
"Why Major Houlihan?" Klinger asked, knowing that Hawkeye deserved to know, since he and BJ were best friends, but not the Major.  
  
"I know that too many cooks spoil the brew, but many hands also make light work," Colonel Potter explained. "The Major will probably be the most level-headed about this out of all of us, and that way she'll have some good input on it."  
  
Klinger understood and nodded, seeing sense. He could see Hawkeye flying off the handle, as he had a tendency to do, and the Major always seemed to have a calming influence over him. With this in mind, he set off to find the Major and Captain.  
  
~~  
  
Hawkeye had already woken up from his few hours of sleep to see the sun rising, and stretched and yawned. The snoring lump under Charles' bed and the quieter form in the spare bunk told him that surgery was definitely over for the day, and for the moment he could relax and unwind from the horrendous session of surgery that he had recently endured.  
  
As he sat on his cot, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them, he noticed something beneath BJ's cot. Thinking that it was something he had left out from his search the previous day, he went over to pick it up and replace it in the footlocker, so as not to arise any suspicions. He picked it up and glanced at it, and as he did so realised that this letter was written far later than any of the others that he had read.  
  
"What the Hell?" Hawkeye said to himself as he read it. Peg's constant apologising, the talk of another man, this was certainly news to him.  
  
As he continued to read, unblinking so as not to miss one syllable of what was being said, he realised that he may have just stumbled upon the cause of BJ's recent behaviour. It was Peg's last letter to BJ.  
  
~~~~ 


	13. Chapter Twelve: A Plan Of Action

A/N: I realise that I changed my Penname... and then changed it back again. This is largely due to hackers, it's a long story. But I am back to Becca T, and sticking with it. Enjoy the next chapter and keep reading!  
  
Chapter Twelve: A Plan Of Action  
  
~~  
  
Not even bothering to tie his boots, Hawkeye slipped into them and threw his robe around him before running across the compound to Colonel Potter's tent, the letter still in his hands. On finding that he was not there, he decided that the next best place to look was his office, and so he sprinted across the compound again, desperate to share the news with someone.  
  
He burst into the room to find not only Colonel Potter sitting at his desk, but also a tired-looking Margaret in a chair, and Klinger standing to the side of the door, midway through his explanation that he couldn't find Hawkeye. "Colonel," Hawkeye said breathlessly, taking a brief moment to compose himself before continuing, "I've found it."  
  
"Found what?" Colonel Potter asked him, seeing Hawkeye's clumsily dressed form and dishevelled hair and wondering what on earth had happened.  
  
"It, Colonel," Hawkeye stressed, trying to make Colonel Potter understand what he was talking about. "The reason why, the cause, the problem..."  
  
The penny dropped, and Colonel Potter realised that Hawkeye had figured out what had been the cause of BJ's less than normal characteristics over recent weeks. "Well, what is it?"  
  
Hawkeye wordlessly handed him the letter that he had read only moments ago, and whilst Colonel Potter was reading it, a rather irritated, sleep- deprived Margaret asked, "Colonel, just what is this sunrise surprise meeting about?"  
  
"Just a minute, Major," Colonel Potter said, holding up his hand, and not taking his eyes off of the paper for one second, just as Hawkeye had done. They widened as he read, as things suddenly began to fall into place. He finished, and read it again, only slower this time, making sure that he took all the facts in, and then he quietly said, "this explains it."  
  
"Colonel, would you please explain what is going on?" Margaret said, this time with more concern in her voice. She knew that something was amiss, as for a start Hawkeye was not his usual, jocular self, and both Colonel Potter and Klinger were unusually quiet and solemn, and this mass out-of- character gathering had her wondering exactly what it was that was happening.  
  
Margaret's voice brought Colonel Potter back to reality, and so he began. "Of course, Major, I'm sorry," he apologised, forgetting for a moment that he had called this small assembly for a purpose, and so he took a moment to plan his approach, and then began the explanation.  
  
"All right, this meeting is to discuss Captain Hunnicutt," he began, not at all sure if he was going about it the right way, but in any case he continued. "As you may or may not have seen, BJ has not been himself lately, to say the least. Hawkeye has noticed that he has been drinking more frequently, and apparently for more than just pleasure, and I was informed by Igor this morning that he has not been to the Mess Tent for about three weeks now."  
  
"What?" Margaret gasped, whilst Hawkeye could only stare as realisation dawned.  
  
"Cutting a long story short, I think that BJ might be suffering from depression, something that I half suspected, but now I think that Igor has confirmed it for us, as apparently BJ has no desire to eat. Well, whatever it was, both Pierce and I wanted to find out why there has been this recent change in behaviour, and I think that we can all agree this ought to do it."  
  
He handed Margaret the letter to read, and Klinger peered over her shoulder. She sighed as she reached the end, before handing it back. "Poor guy," she murmured, knowing how he felt, "why didn't he tell anyone?"  
  
That's what I'd like to know, Hawkeye thought to himself.  
  
"Questions like that can be answered later," Colonel Potter said, not wanting to go into that right then. "The plot thickens, because the Aid Station has bugged out, and that leaves us with way of no contacting BJ for the moment. Once we do get in touch with him, I want him pulled out of the exchange and brought back here."  
  
"I think we should called Dr Freedman," Klinger said quietly, not having a lot of input into the discussion up to that point.  
  
Colonel Potter nodded, already having decided this in his mind, but so as not to discourage Klinger he said, "good thinking. As soon as we've got in contact with Captain Hunnicutt, I'd like you to call him, Klinger."  
  
"Hey, hold it, he's not nuts," Hawkeye said defensively, feeling as though BJ was about to get treated as though he belonged in a room with rubber walls. In his heart, he knew that talking to Sidney would probably do him the world of good, but it still felt strange.  
  
"I never said he was," Colonel Potter said evenly, "but you and I both know that Sidney is the best thing for him right now."  
  
"If he didn't talk to us, what makes you think that he'll open up to Dr Freedman?" Margaret asked, raising a point she had been touched upon earlier, the fact that BJ had kept the entire thing inside him.  
  
Colonel Potter had considered this, too, but he told Margaret what he had himself concluded, and said, "Sidney has been trained for this, plus now that we know what we're dealing with it should be easier to help BJ. We've all seen Sidney work, and I think you'll agree that he definitely knows what he's doing."  
  
No one could argue with that. They all took a moment to be silent, to work through their own personal thoughts and try and comprehend what they had all just heard. It was true that BJ had by no means been himself lately, but they had always seen him as the one that could help, and the one with no problems. And now the tables had turned, BJ was the one that needed help, a lot of it, but he hadn't asked for it, and so no one had been able to give it to him.  
  
"Right now, I can't confirm that it is depression," Colonel Potter said to them, "it could be something else entirely, but that's what it looks like from where I'm standing. It also looks like we've got an added extra, in that he hasn't been eating. The symptoms add up."  
  
"He's lost weight, and he's gone from being the camp's practical joking king to being serious and unhappy," Hawkeye said, deciding to share what he knew so that the pieces could be slotted into the puzzle, "and his sleeping routine has been off."  
  
"He's been irritable," Margaret added.  
  
"As I said, I'm fairly sure that's what we're dealing with," Colonel Potter said, looking at his watch with irritation and thinking that he should have received the phone call about the Aid Station by then. "Folks, for the sake of BJ, I want you to keep this hush-hush for the moment, the last thing he or anyone else needs is a scuttle bug like this making its way around camp."  
  
"Understood, Colonel," they said, all agreeing that this was the best procedure.  
  
Colonel Potter was weighing up whether to let Father Mulcahy in on the situation when the phone in Klinger's office rang, and he was out of his chair in a split second to answer it. Whilst he was out of the room, the group talked amongst themselves.  
  
"I can't believe I never saw it before," Hawkeye said to himself, still trying to grasp the situation. He was supposed to be BJ's best friend, but he couldn't do a single thing to help him. He couldn't find out what was wrong until then, and only because he stumbled upon the note. Before then, he couldn't get it out of BJ, and even now that he knew, he wasn't qualified to help, or whatever that meant. He'd let BJ down.  
  
"Don't blame yourself," Margaret said soothingly, knowing exactly what Hawkeye would be doing right then. "No one knew what was happening inside him, no one is to blame for not being able to do anything."  
  
"The signs were all there, I should have seen them and figured it out sooner," Hawkeye insisted, trying to take the blame for what had happened, because he felt he needed to, to try and justify that someone was to blame and that it should be him.  
  
"Captain, you're a great doctor, but you don't look for stuff like that," Klinger said, trying to reassure Hawkeye that it was not his fault.  
  
"I'm supposed to be his best friend, though, and in doing that I'm meant to look out for him and make sure he's all right."  
  
"Which can't be done unless he let's you," Margaret promised him, getting tired of Hawkeye's self-pity when he was not currently the issue, "Face it, you can't blame yourself, and that's the end of it."  
  
Hawkeye would have interjected had Colonel Potter not walked into the office, ashen faced following the phone conversation with the Major at the Aid Station. "The Aid Station crew managed to bug out away from the shelling," he said slowly, his colour still not returning to his face.  
  
"That's good, right?" Hawkeye asked uncertainly.  
  
"The CO of the outfit told BJ to come back here, because the fighting got too dangerous," Colonel Potter continued, his voice trying to remain steady. "Hunnicutt followed until he was due to turn off and head our way, but he turned too early." Colonel Potter swallowed and in a hoarse voice said, "He's heading straight for the shelling."  
  
~~~~ 


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Fighter

Chapter Thirteen: Fighter  
  
~~  
  
The tension could have been cut with a knife. Colonel Potter bowed his head after he delivered the news, unable to see the reactions of the others. Margaret's hands flew over her lips; her mouth and eyes wide open in shock. She had been in the Army for years, and she had seen more death and injury than she cared for, but only once had she seen a close friend of hers been put in such danger, and even to this day she had nightmares about the incident. She did not know how she would cope to live through it again.  
  
Klinger turned away, unable to react any other way to the news he had just heard. He feared the worst for BJ, he had a vision of wounded being flown in on a chopper or being brought to the M*A*S*H on a bus. Klinger had an image of him lifting the blanket back, to get the name and serial number of someone who had not survived, and finding BJ's lifeless eyes staring into his own. The thought made him feel totally sick to the stomach.  
  
Hawkeye, his mouth slightly open, shook his head repeatedly, as if the entire thing was a huge joke and BJ would walk in at any moment, laughing, smiling, and saying, "Got you!" Hawkeye would have jumped for joy if it were a joke, after giving BJ a good talking to about scaring his friends to death. No matter how much he stared at the door, it did not open.  
  
"What can we do?" Margaret asked quietly.  
  
Everyone present knew the answer to that question. Nothing.  
  
"I'll go out and look for him," Hawkeye said, getting up from where he had perched on the table, but before he could get to the door, a firm grasp held him back.  
  
"Don't be a fool," Colonel Potter snapped. "You don't know where the Hell he is, where do you think you're going to start looking?" He knew that the obvious instinct was to go out and search for BJ, an instinct that came not only from a best friend but also from others close to him, but Colonel Potter had enough sense to know that doing so would be far too dangerous. Instead, he had come up with a better solution. "I've sent for a chopper to go and look for him, but remember, he can't fly over enemy territory so we may not even succeed with that."  
  
"It's better than nothing," Klinger said quietly.  
  
"Where's the chopper?" Hawkeye demanded. If he went with the pilot, he would be on hand to tend to any medical situation, and would also eliminate the feeling inside him that he was doing nothing.  
  
"And where's Hunnicutt going to sit if and when our pilot finds him?"  
  
"I'll ride on the side, and he'll have one of those counter-weight things," Hawkeye insisted, and Colonel Potter saw that he was not going to win this particular discussion.  
  
Sighing, he said, "Chopper leaves in three minutes. Get your helmet and medical bag and be up at the pad by then. Klinger, get Pierce the papers, ASAP." Hawkeye gave Colonel Potter a look of thanks before he ran out of the room to the Swamp, to change out of his robe and put on some clothing.  
  
~~  
  
It took some minutes for it occur to BJ that he could hear the shelling again. Once the pack had set off, the loud noises had faded away, but as he drove alone down the road, they began to creep back. Thinking that the shelling had been moving at a quicker pace towards him, he increased his speed in the hope that he might be able to outrun them.  
  
BJ, at that moment, did not have the sense to see that he was going towards the bombing, as opposed to away from it. It had been hours, days, he had lost count since he had last eaten something, and his lack of energy had begun to take its toll over him. He had felt out of it since coming off his shift at the Aid Station, when the adrenaline must have been used up, he thought to himself. He had trouble focusing and concentrating, and he felt like he was constantly in a daze, or some kind of world of his own.  
  
He shook his head, and tried to snap himself out of it, and only when he tried to focus on something did he realise that bombs were going off not more than a hundred yards in front of him. Reacting sharply, he swerved the jeep to perform a U-turn, and began to accelerate in the opposite direction. He looked in the wing mirror, and could clearly see the yellow balls of fire that rose as the shells landed on the ground, only slightly before he could hear the earth-shattering blasts that rocked the world around. They came towards him at an alarming rate, and inside he felt that he might not live to see the sun rise.  
  
The sky was becoming lighter, and although this gave BJ the advantage of being able to see the track before him, it also gave the bombers a better chance of spotting him and aiming for his jeep. He pressed the accelerator as far to the floor as it would go, hoping and praying for speed. The wind and dust stung his eyes and face, but he didn't care, all that mattered was beating the bombs.  
  
BJ didn't realise it then, but he was fighting for survival, fighting to live like he knew he had something to live for. Although he felt that he had nothing left in his life, something within him knew that he had a beautiful daughter waiting for him when he got back to the States, and she was something to stay alive for.  
  
Despite it being a chilly morning, the sweat poured from BJ's forehead as he drove, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel with all his might, squeezing as much energy and speed out of the jeep as he possibly could. The road swerved and dipped as it pleased, leaving the driver fairly shaken, and if he'd had any lunch inside him, he would have surely lost it by then.  
  
The shelling seemed to have veered away from BJ's path, and he took a look in the wing mirror to check. Although he could still see and hear the explosions, they were further away, and heading to his right, and BJ breathed a momentary sigh of relief. Still, he had to keep going, as the morning was becoming lighter by the second, and it would only be a matter of minutes before there was enough daylight for him to be spotted.  
  
He averted his eyes from the mirror to the road ahead of him just too late, and there was no time to avoid the large crater in the middle of the road, where he assumed a bomb had once dropped. Despite his efforts, the right front wheel became caught in it, and the jeep flipped over in the air, throwing BJ from it. He landed and rolled along the ground for a moment, and the world around him melted into darkness as he passed out.  
  
~~~~ 


	15. Chapter Fourteen: The First Hurdle

Chapter Fourteen: The First Hurdle  
  
~~  
  
Hawkeye had turned the map upside down and around four times before he decided that it was really not going to help him, so he gave up and folded it away. He and the pilot, Lieutenant Tom Carter, had been flying for an hour now and as yet had found no sight of BJ. They had located where the Aid Station had bugged out to, and had decided to follow the road that the unit had travelled along, hoping that BJ had not strayed too far from this route.  
  
"Captain, we're getting near the shelling," Carter warned him, slowing the chopper down as he heard the bombs in the distance. He shouldn't have even taken the chopper this close to the Front, but he had seen the determined look in Pierce's eyes, and he knew that the search for his companion was going to be pushed to and beyond the limits. He himself had been in a situation where he had been searching for his lost buddy, and thankfully he had been found, safe and well, but the time before had been harrowing for Tom.  
  
Hawkeye had his eyes peeled open as much as was humanly possible, and unblinking they scanned the area below, looking for any sign of his friend. The sounds of the shelling were nearing them, but as much as Hawkeye feared for his life, plus that of Tom, but he knew that he would most probably go out of his mind if he didn't find BJ. "Keep going," he said, knowing that eventually they would have to stop, but not yet. Not until they found BJ.  
  
There was a lapse in conversation for a few moments, the silence only broken by the constant whirring of the chopper blades. Suddenly, something caught Hawkeye's gaze, and he almost jumped out of his seat when he took a second look. He could see an overturned jeep, and not far from it a figure lying in some scrubs of grass.  
  
"Look, there," Hawkeye said anxiously, pointing to what he had just spotted, "take us down."  
  
Tom did so, finding a safe place to land, and watched as Hawkeye jump out of the chopper even before it had touched down, medical bag safely in hand. He stayed back, deciding that he would only approach if he were needed.  
  
Hawkeye ran towards BJ and skidded a stop beside the unconscious figure, and cursed at the sight of him. The blood from a cut on the side of his forehead was beginning to dry, as were the other streams of blood that had seeped into his clothing. He took the briefest of moments to pray that he found a pulse when he looked.  
  
Hawkeye checked the airway, breathing, and heaved a brief sigh of relief to find a pulse, before checking for any other injures. He rolled BJ over and lifted his T-shirt up to check for damage to his chest and could only stare at what was before him. BJ's ribs were alarmingly visible, almost like the skin covering them was as thin as a sheet. "Beej, why didn't you tell me?" Hawkeye whispered, before shaking his head to relieve the sense of shock and continuing with the examination.  
  
BJ stirred as Hawkeye did so, his eyelids flickering a few times before opening fully, and the first thing he saw was Hawkeye's concerned expression looking down upon him. Hawkeye was here. Why was he here? Where was he? What had happened? Questions flitted through BJ's mind as quick as lightning, all of them left unanswered, as his mouth remained tightly closed. He didn't have the will or the energy to speak, so he just sat and stared.  
  
"Beej, where did you learn to drive?" Hawkeye asked, glancing over to the upturned jeep and trying to make light of a very heavy situation, which he so often did. His intent was to make BJ speak, by asking him a question, but he decided that since he did not answer, the question was too rhetorical, and so he tried again. "Where do you hurt?"  
  
BJ turned his head away, still not up to talking, the only thing he wanted to do was sleep. He let his eyelids slide shut, and after a moment of darkness he felt nothing.  
  
"Damn," Hawkeye muttered to himself, annoyed at not being able to get a response out of BJ. Lately, he didn't seem to know anything of what was going on in his friend's life, and now that he knew there was something hidden, the thought of not knowing and not being able to help was driving him crazy. His attention turned back to BJ's health, and he finished checking him over, coming to the conclusion that he had a concussion, a sprained wrist from the fall, and some cuts and bruises picked up when he rolled across the ground. Since he was unconscious, a stretcher was required, so he waved to Tom and called out, "I need a stretcher here!"  
  
Tom was ready for this, and hastened to where Hawkeye was still crouched down next to BJ with the stretcher. The two carefully placed BJ onto it, and hurried to strap him to the chopper before taking off, as Tom noted, "the shelling isn't far away now."  
  
Once the chopper had taken off safely, and they were out of enemy territory, Hawkeye made his attempt to master the radio and call Colonel Potter to update him on the goings-on. "This is Hawkeye calling the 4077th M*A*S*H, erm, over," he said, remembering that he would have to use the Army protocol to get things done quickly.  
  
"M*A*S*H 4077th receiving your call, over," Klinger said, having waited for the call all morning, "What's the news, Captain?"  
  
"We've found BJ," Hawkeye reported, glancing down to his left at his friend, who was at that moment lying unconscious on the side of the chopper. "We're on our way back to the camp, and should be back in just under an hour."  
  
Colonel Potter had heard the call and walked into the room to hear the situation, and from behind Klinger he asked, "What's his condition?"  
  
"It looks worse than it is," Hawkeye assured him, remembering how he had reacted when he had first seen found BJ. "A few cuts and bruises that need seeing to, a probable concussion, and a sprained wrist, from what I can tell. Nothing's broken," he added, letting Colonel Potter know that he had checked all possible injuries before loading BJ onto the chopper.  
  
"Good," Colonel Potter said, breathing a sigh of relief on hearing that physically, BJ was going to be fine. He had been sitting in his office worrying since Hawkeye had left, not knowing what to expect when BJ was found, and that was even if BJ was found. He hated to doubt, but as the CO he had to be prepared for any situation, no matter how grim. "See you soon."  
  
~~~~ 


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Speak

Chapter Fifteen: Speak  
  
~~  
  
BJ lay in the bed in the corner of Post-Op, just staring at the ceiling above him. His eyes barely shifted, and nothing else moved spare his chest rising and falling as he breathed. Occasionally his eyelids would close and he would fall asleep, but even during slumber he never so much as flinched. He was hooked up to a drip, so that the nutrients he needed could enter his system, and although he had physically objected at first, he did not have the strength to do anything more about it. Hawkeye watched from the desk, and the urge to go up to him and shake him by the shoulders was huge, but he knew that all he could do was sit and wait.  
  
BJ had been like this for the best part of a day now, ever since he had arrived from his adventure at the Front. Those in the camp had been given strict orders not to disturb him, and although they wondered why he was in this state, they assumed that he had seen something horrific at the Front, and they courteously abided by the rule. Sidney had been telephoned, and was due to arrive that evening, but Hawkeye could not wait. He had to talk to BJ.  
  
He casually walked over to the bed and sat on the chair beside it. For a few silent moments he twiddled his thumbs, thinking about what to say to BJ. "This shouldn't have happened," he murmured, thinking that this would be as good a place as any to start. "I don't know why you didn't tell anyone. You can tell me anything, you should know that by now, hell you've told me everything else, I don't see why you didn't tell me this."  
  
He was beginning to rant now, so he took a deep breath and slowed down. "Actually, I don't know why I didn't notice earlier, I guess it makes me a bad friend or something, me not seeing it all before. I saw it, I just didn't see it, for you see what I mean," Hawkeye said, finding that as he spoke his feelings, they became more entangled. "I just didn't realise what you were doing to yourself, not turning up for your meals like that. What were you thinking?"  
  
He stopped himself; as he did not want to get angry with BJ, although he felt he would start to go stark raving mad if his friend did not say something soon. He had seen the same thing with the boy that had come in on Halloween, who had gone away and come back to find his buddies killed in a foxhole. He said, "I'll be back in a minute," and returned a few moments later with a tray of something he had found in the kitchen from Igor; some lunch that had been saved after he and Tom had gone out to get BJ that same day. "Here, I got you something," he said, shoving the tray of slightly cold food in front of his friend's face.  
  
BJ turned away and mumbled, "No, I don't want it."  
  
This was the reaction that Hawkeye had got from that same boy, but he knew that the boy had valid reason for this, and although he knew that BJ was going through pain as well, he decided to use a guilt trip to get something out of him. "You remember that kid I told you about, the guy who wouldn't eat because his guys got shot in a foxhole during lunchtime? He had a real reason for this, and what the Hell are you doing it for, just because your wife found herself in the arms of some other guy for the night?" Hawkeye hated saying that, and wished he hadn't have done, but the words just flowed out and there was nothing he could do to stop them as he continued, "you always go and overreact when it comes to your wife, and this time is just no exception."  
  
BJ sat through the verbal beating sitting stock still, but Hawkeye could tell that it was affecting him because he was blinking faster than before. Finally, BJ said, "Look, I didn't blurt it out to the camp, and moan and groan about it constantly, I didn't say anything to anyone and I suffered alone, since I was once told that my brand of suffering or whatever isn't better than anyone else's, so I thought I'd go it alone. I did that, and still I haven't done the right thing."  
  
Hawkeye gulped at the outburst, and thought to himself that on the plus side he had managed to get BJ to speak. "Beej, you gotta eat something," he urged him, finally feeling like he would be able to have a conversation with BJ rather than his own monologue.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why? Because you'll die otherwise," Hawkeye said in a whisper, not wanting even himself to hear this. "Peg doesn't want you to die, and Erin doesn't want to live her life without a Daddy. No one in this camp wants you to die, Margaret wants you to pull some more practical jokes on her, Charles wants to talk down to you some more, Klinger wants to put through some more calls to Mill Valley for you, Colonel Potter wants you to keep the mood light during more OR sessions, and I want my best friend back," he finished with so much honesty in his voice.  
  
BJ looked away, hiding the tears that stung his eyes. He was saved by Colonel Potter walking through Post-Op and spotting Hawkeye at his bedside. "Pier-ce," Colonel Potter said in a singsong voice, his finger beckoning Hawkeye to where he stood at the door of the ward.  
  
Colonel Potter waited until Hawkeye was into Klinger's empty office, and for the door to shut before he started the reprimanding. "Pierce, I thought we had a deal, we let Sidney do the talking, because he is the professional, and you have a tendency to go the wrong way about these things despite your best intentions."  
  
"But Colonel, I got him to talk, I got him to say something," Hawkeye said, insisting that he had been in the right to do what he had done.  
  
"And what sort of tone did he use, what mood was he in?" Colonel Potter asked him. "Did he sound like he was back to his normal, chirpy self?"  
  
"No, but..."  
  
"Did he sound like any of the following: angry, listless, upset, or all of the above?"  
  
Hawkeye was about to answer, when he stopped and realise that Colonel Potter was talking some sense, in that BJ did not sound healed by any means, he really did sound upset and listless, and given more provoking on Hawkeye's part he probably would have turned angry. Instead, Hawkeye asked, "When does Sidney arrive?"  
  
"Within the hour," Colonel Potter said, before softened slightly and saying, "Look, son, I know you're worried for him, we all are, but you just have to leave well alone and let Sidney do what he was trained to do. Now, how would you feel BJ had some shrapnel in the belly, and Sidney insisted that he would be able to remove it? What would you say to that?"  
  
"I'd tell him that I was the surgeon, and that I was trained to be a surgeon, and I'd tell him to let me do my job," Hawkeye said, now seeing Colonel Potter's point. "I'm sorry, Colonel."  
  
"No damage done, hopefully," he said, glancing through the window at where BJ lay in the bed, his gaze having returned to the ceiling. A moment later, they heard a jeep pull up outside, and they went to see who it was.  
  
They walked outside into the cool, dusky evening to see Sidney Freedman getting out the jeep and trying to adjust his back after what was evidently a long and uncomfortable ride. He turned around and saw Hawkeye and Colonel Potter walking up to him, and so waved and called, "Now I know why I went into psychiatry, couches are more comfortable than these so-called jeep seats."  
  
"Glad you could make it, Sidney," Colonel Potter said, shaking the doctor's hand as Klinger appeared from the Mess Tent to get his bags.  
  
"Happy to help," Sidney replied, walking with Hawkeye and Colonel Potter towards the CO's office. "I haven't been up your way in a while, and I only wish I came up here to lose some money in a poker game."  
  
"Amen to that," Colonel Potter said quietly.  
  
"When do you think you could start talking to him?" Hawkeye asked, wanting to see BJ back to his normal self as soon as possible.  
  
"Do you think its too late tonight, Colonel?" Sidney asked, ready to start whenever, but also looking to the CO of the camp to see what the protocol for the situation might be.  
  
"If you move him into the VIP tent, you can talk to him all night, if you want to," Colonel Potter said, trying to work out the best plan of action. "Sidney, do you mind staying in the Swamp?"  
  
"Not at all, after riding in that jeep I could sleep on anything," Sidney said, his back still feeling the ride.  
  
"All right, I'll tell you what, I'll have Hunnicutt moved into the VIP tent whilst Sidney recovers from the journey, and then he can start talking to him, how does that sound?" Colonel Potter said, deciding that some kind of order needed to be taken.  
  
"It sounds like a plan."  
  
~~~~ 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Therapy

Chapter Sixteen: Therapy  
  
~~  
  
"I should have guessed, really, why they moved me from Post-Op into the VIP tent. I had a feeling that someone somewhere along the way would say I'm crazy, and so good old Doc Freeman pays another visit to the 4077th to talk to the crazy guy."  
  
"Do you think you're crazy, then?"  
  
"No, I don't, but probably everyone else does. Look, Sidney, it was nice of you to visit and all, but I don't know what the point of you talking to me is," BJ said languidly. "Everyone knows what's wrong with me, they know I stopped eating, and they know why, because they found the letter from Peg, so I really don't see the point of you talking to me."  
  
Sidney noticed that BJ was trying to put off the talk, and this gave him all the more incentive to carry on the conversation. "Sure, people may know about what happened, but does that mean you're cured?"  
  
"What's to be cured?"  
  
This was interesting, Sidney thought to himself, that BJ was trying to almost deny either that he had something wrong with him, or that what was wrong with him could be treated. He said, "You've stopped eating, BJ, and to me that says that there's a problem out there that needs a solution."  
  
"Oh yeah? Have you got the answer?"  
  
It unnerved Sidney to see BJ like this, so without hope, without his usual zest for living, and without a care for what he was doing to himself. He also hated talking to him and treated him as a patient, despite him needing to be talked to in that way. "I don't have the answer, only you know how to help yourself. I'm just here to give you the starting blocks for that."  
  
"I've got the answer? Give me the starting blocks? Aren't you going a little overboard with the psychiatrist mumbo-jumbo, Sid?"  
  
Slowly, Sidney blocked out the fact that BJ was his patient, and began to take on the role of psychiatrist rather than good friend, and the professionalism came more into the conversation. "All right, I'll stop being the psychiatrist for you, and you can start to do some of the work. What do you think you have to do to get me out of here?"  
  
"Throw you out of the door," BJ muttering, wondering what kind of approach Sidney was taking.  
  
"Ah, but you can't do that, do you know why?"  
  
"I'm in bed, hooked up to a drip," BJ told him, gesturing to the medical equipment he was attached to.  
  
"Tell me, why are you in bed, with a drip? How did you come to be in that situation?"  
  
"I lost some weight," BJ said casually, as if he was talking about losing a sock or something trivial like that, not about malnutrition.  
  
"All right, you lost the weight, you stopped eating," Sidney said, glad to see that thus far, BJ was co-operating. As he asked the next question, he wondered how much longer this co-operation would last. "Why did you stop eating?"  
  
This irritated BJ, as Sidney already knew why. "Look, someone must have told you this already, Peg decided to find comfort in the arms of another man," he said, now in full flow, "And now, because she has to think it through or whatever that means, I am stuck without communication, without knowing, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."  
  
Sidney smiled ever so slightly, as he felt that BJ had just hit the proverbial nail on the head. He pursued the subject and said, "But why stop eating? I mean, you could have done any number of things, you could have started excessive drinking, you could have taken out your anger physically, and some have even been known to go AWOL. Why stop eating?"  
  
This was a question that BJ had not been posed before, and he took the time to think about the answer. Eventually he said, "I guess I had total control of what I was eating."  
  
Sidney could have jumped for joy as BJ said that, but he remained calm and composed. "I think you're right, BJ. You couldn't control what was happening at home, being here in Korea, so you decided to find something else that you could have control over, like what you ate, or in this case didn't eat."  
  
BJ thought this through before nodded and said, "All right, I guess now you know why I stopped eating, how exactly does this cure me?"  
  
"I never said it would cure you," Sidney said in his ever-calm voice, "but now you have a deeper understanding as to why you stopped eating, it was about your lack of control."  
  
"You make me sound like a control freak or something," BJ said, looking away from Sidney.  
  
"I'm not saying that at all, but everyone likes to have some grasp of a situation, especially when the situation is so close to home," Sidney explained to him. "It's only nature to find something else that you have power over, something that up until now, no one could have any influence over apart from yourself. But BJ, if you don't start eating soon, you are going to become severely ill, and there are a lot of people who are going to be greatly affected by that. Can you think who might be?"  
  
"Well, Colonel Potter would be down a surgeon," BJ began, looking at the practical problems that might arise.  
  
"But it would not only be the Colonel and the M*A*S*H that would suffer because you wouldn't be in the OR," Sidney told him, "Think of all those kids who might die because you weren't there to help them."  
  
"They'd find another surgeon, there are plenty in Korea."  
  
"And if they're not as good as you are? If they don't know the procedures, or if they freeze under the conditions, all the blood and suffering, what then?"  
  
"I didn't know you branched out into emotional blackmail," BJ stated darkly, not liking the route that Sidney was going down. He himself had mentally been down that road, during quiet times of reflection since receiving the letter from Peg, and at the end of each road was the Still and a good few hours of drinking to drown his sorrows and try and forget.  
  
Sidney got the hint, and said, "All right, let's move onto something else. Hawkeye would miss you, too, I mean you must know how deserted he felt when Trapper left, because he was left without a friend until you came along. Think of all the things you've done for him, like how many times did he say to you that he wouldn't know what he'd do without you? Well, it's true, he wouldn't. This war has taken its toll on everyone here in its own way, and if you weren't to recover, I have a feeling that Hawkeye wouldn't either, he'd probably lose the plot. He wants to help you like all the times you've helped him, but you're shutting him out. Let him in and see what happens," Sidney said, then deciding that it was time to bring out verbal force and to break through the cold wall that BJ had built up over the past through weeks with emotion.  
  
BJ looked away, tears in his eyes, and Sidney could see what he was saying was working. He decided at that moment he would bring out the biggest of the big guns. "Last but not least, there is a little girl so many miles away that needs you, maybe not right now, but when she gets older she'll be asking her Mom what happened to her Daddy, and someone is going to have to answer that question. There is also someone who is going to have to be there for that little girl, for when she falls and scrapes her knee, when she falls out with her best friend, when she wakes up from a nightmare, when she goes through her first break-up, and for many more times after that, and I know from being a father that I wouldn't trust any other guy except me to be there for my kid when they go through all those things, wouldn't you?"  
  
BJ was now in full flow, tears streaming from his eyes, and Sidney knew that he had broken that wall that had kept back all the emotion in him. He also knew that even though BJ was crying then, in the long run his method had been the least hurtful. He moved from his chair and crouched next to BJ's bedside, so that he could embrace and pat BJ on the back, to give him some strength and support.  
  
After a moment BJ let go, and with a half-laugh asked, "How did you do that, Sidney?"  
  
"You did the first part of it yourself," Sidney said, typically modest about the work he did. "You figured out why exactly you had decided to stop eating. For the second part, I just reminded you of a couple or three things that you had to live for, and you did the rest."  
  
"What did I do? I just sat there and listened," BJ said, wiping the tearstains from his face.  
  
"Exactly. You listened to someone, and you took it in. You won, BJ," Sidney said, congratulating him softly. "You may not know where you stand with Peg right now, and its okay to feel bad about that, but it doesn't mean that you have to give up on everything else in your life, because you have so much to live for, you just forgot about it for a moment, that's all. Now, you're still not totally cured, I mean you have lost a lot of weight and you have a lot of strength to get back, physical and mental, but you're out of the starting blocks, buddy."  
  
BJ looked up, ready to face the world and all it could throw at him once again, before he turned to his friend and said, "Thank you, Sidney."  
  
~~~~ 


	18. Chapter Seventeen: You Got A Friend In M...

Chapter Seventeen: You Got A Friend In Me  
  
~~  
  
A little later on, Sidney left BJ in the VIP tent, and at almost the dead of midnight walked back to the Swamp, tired from the half-day of travelling, and from the past few hours of talking. He was immediately met in the Swamp by Hawkeye, who had apparently stayed awake to greet Sidney on his return. "How is he?" Hawkeye asked, sitting up in bed, a book discarded since the moment he saw Sidney walk into the Swamp.  
  
"Asleep," Sidney said, something that was high up on his own priority list.  
  
"Is he better?"  
  
"I think he's going to be fine," Sidney said, untying the laces on his boots. "We had a good, long talk, and he's starting to come to terms with what happened with that letter he got from Peg. Hopefully, he'll start getting back to his normal self, he should start eating soon."  
  
Hawkeye nodded, and asked, "Can I see him?"  
  
"Leave it until the morning," Sidney advised. "He needs all the sleep he can get, he's still weak from malnutrition, but once he starts eating again, his energy will creep up and he'll start being a bit more lively." He laid back on his cot, his hands behind his head and said, "I've seen cases like this before, trust me, okay?"  
  
Hawkeye grinned, as he sometimes felt like Sidney was some kind of mind reader rather than a mere shrink. Of course, he never doubted Sid's ability as a psychiatrist, but when BJ was sitting on the patient's couch, it felt somewhat different. Still, he was determined, and asked, "Can I just sit with him, until he wakes up?"  
  
Sidney thought about this and said, "I don't see the harm in it, just let him sleep, okay?" He knew that Hawkeye had to play some part in BJ's recovery, because he felt the need to do something, even if it was just sitting with him, and Sidney understood and respected this need.  
  
"I'll be as quiet as the resident mice," Hawkeye said, creeping out of the tent towards where BJ was sleeping. He felt this need to be present for when BJ woke up, if he wanted anything, in case he had a nightmare, whatever. He had to be there for him, and there was no question about it.  
  
He crept into the tent, and saw that BJ was indeed asleep, so he quietly sat in the chair and picked up a book from beneath it. After a few lines of reading he lost concentration, and he glanced over to BJ's sleeping form. He saw that some of the lines of worry, the constant frown that had appeared over the past few weeks, were already starting to disappear. Thank God for Sidney, Hawkeye thought to himself.  
  
He and BJ had been there for each other more times than Hawkeye cared to remember. Hawkeye had always been there when BJ had received bad news from home, no matter how trivial. When Hawkeye was worrying about patients, BJ had always known exactly what to say to him. He did not even have to say anything to be a comfort, just his presence was reassuring enough, and now Hawkeye could return that reassurance and sit with BJ.  
  
Hawkeye was still annoyed with himself that he had not seen the signs pointing to BJ's illness earlier. He should have at least seen how thin he was becoming, he was a doctor, it should have been plain as day to him! But no, he never saw it, he never saw how thin he became, how he was never at meals, how pallid he always looked, how irritated the usually light- hearted character was, and how much he was drinking. He scolded himself for that one in particular, although it was not related to not eating, it was still a clear sign of depression, and one of the first that he should have spotted. Some days, the two of them would drink a considerable amount, but that was usually after a very heavy sum of casualties had rolled in and out of the OR. BJ was drinking on a nightly basis, and although Hawkeye saw it, he never realised exactly what was happening.  
  
"I'm sorry, Beej," Hawkeye whispered, looking down at the expressionless face of the man in the bed, "I let you down, and I'm so sorry." He had thought the situation through hundreds upon hundreds of times, and had tried to imagine what could have been if he had picked up on the problem earlier.  
  
"Not your fault, Hawk," a weak voice said quietly, startling Hawkeye. It seemed to take a considerable amount of strength to do so, but BJ slowly opened his eyes and looked for Hawkeye, someone he could draw strength from.  
  
"Hey, Beej," Hawkeye greeted softly, his face lighting up to see his friend awake. "How are you feeling?"  
  
BJ shrugged his shoulders and murmured, "Okay, I guess." He looked intently into Hawkeye's eyes and said, "Please don't blame yourself for this, it's not your fault."  
  
Hawkeye gave BJ's shoulder a squeeze of comfort, but the he did not agree. "I should have seen it, I should have seen the signs," Hawkeye said, his voice full of regret.  
  
"No one saw," BJ said simply. "You didn't know what you were looking for, and no one else did, either."  
  
Hawkeye was about to continue when he remembered that the last thing he wanted to do was to upset or agitate BJ, so he let it go. "Next time something's bothering you, tell me, okay? I mean, you had me worried back there," he said kindly, for once letting his true feelings of friendship for BJ show through.  
  
"All right, Hawk, I will," BJ said tiredly.  
  
"I'll let you get some rest," Hawkeye said, seeing that BJ needed some, "Are you gonna be okay now?"  
  
BJ nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Hawk," he said, and Hawkeye too smiled as he walked out of the door, glad to see his friend starting to recover, if only a little.  
  
~~~~ 


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue:  
  
~~  
  
"Dear Peg,  
  
"I know you said you didn't want any letters whilst you went away, and I don't even know if you'll get this until you come back to the house but I'm going to write it anyway, hoping that you've had enough time to think things through.  
  
"I don't blame you for what you did, maybe I would do something like that too, maybe not, I don't know. I don't blame anyone, I think that if I was to blame anyone or anything it would be the war, for taking me away from you and Erin.  
  
"I guess its up to you what you decide, I mean I can't stop you from making your own decisions. If you do decide to stay with James, I can't pretend that I won't be upset by it, but I'll know that its what you want, and I won't stop you. All that I ask is that you don't keep me from seeing Erin, whatever happens.  
  
"This is a short note, I know, but it all adds up to one thing. Whatever happens, I'll always love you. Tell Erin that her Daddy loves her, too, and I hope I hear from you soon.  
  
"Love, BJ."  
  
~~  
  
A/N: I tried to leave it as an open ending, meaning I might make a sequel later on, maybe. For now, you can imagine what you want to have happened for yourselves.  
  
All right, I have NEVER been good at endings, and I know it! If anyone has any tips on endings, I'll be more than appreciative to hear them. For now, I leave you with news that I have another story in the works, and I should be posting that sometime soon. Thanks for reading, and for the reviews! 


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